Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Tuesday, February 3, 2009: On the Street…Big Denim, Florence

In elementary school gym class, twenty-five
Seven year olds would circle a parachute,
Pull it taut, flick their wrists and puff it up
Like a bedsheet, and would rush underneath

And sit on the edge to trap the air, to keep
The parachute aloft. We’d stoop inside the dome,
A new space we’d invented, and watch the walls
Sag around us, and laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

1 comment

  1. This poem brings back memories of my childhood days! How carefree everything was...and how carefully you capture the delicate beauty of one's youth :)


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