the air tonight was heavy with the traces of a summer that i would never hold: a syrupy, sweet thickness of sticky popsicles and hand-squeezed lemonade that made me instinctively pedal faster, knowing this indulgence was far too rich for me.
families &sidewalks of streets, lazy summer dinners, night-time readings, and bed-time prayers floated just above my head, just past the place where i could comfortably reach-[oh, but if i stretched just a little bit farther...]
&you, with all 99 of your red, hope-filled balloons, reminding me that you`re off soon: to wherever those dreams touch down.
ask me if i`d like to come along for the journey, for company, or just for someone to talk to, perhaps.
but i cannot leave the ground so easily, with that lost summer floating so lackadaisically close to my brain.
&so i instinctively pedal faster and faster, hoping the dust will cover you in my wake.