rollerblades

Rosé in cans.
Dear god, sis?...
but thank you for getting us some drinks.

Two of them down.
They da-dink, watch me unscrew
the wheels of my rollerblades,
laughing aloud
now and then,
gone in the head,

wearing hardly anything -
and spring
was burning
dandelion embers;

I felt the whole sky
watching me.

(And perhaps
the boy next door.)

When I'm dizzy like that,
all my complicated,
ice-sculpted sorrows
turn to simple puddles.

On days
dizzy like this
Days the likes of which
I've never imagined
far away
from the pillow fort days
of careful planning...

I imagined, sure
what kind of person I'd be
Sleeping with a dog,
a lover or three
Sweating under Louisiana spring
mornings
Thick ones
My shoulders and the ditch in my back, still
too damn gorgeous in the streetwide sauna
eyeing the bachelors of the neighborhood
with aged green
but most importantly -
Taking off
every damn morning
in running shoes
and honey skin fit to coat someone's toast
Leaving everything but my heart behind...

Dreams.
My feet are wet with them,
and I've given up
trying to rescue water
from the cycle - give it to that sun,
it's too heavy for me -

but, two toppled cans, pink
glints, watching me
fix up these skates
and pick the past from the bearings -

I am in a gap between
those dreams
and my worn-out memories.

Time to ride them
and see where we go.