The Champagne Soapbox

I used to fall on my knees and get up easily. Using skateboards and helmets to throw myself down, now I look around and notice how many people grew up before me. Just over five foot tall, twenty four looking over the edge of the Baytown bridge and find the world watching waiting for me to be weightless among the breeze. Being gentle means reacting to light things like floating swings or changing leaves and time not agreeing with my plans for a self-fulfilling prophecy. Being gentle means being me before the world affected me. Looking into the eyes of someone I love and finding a child who’s excited for life to always be free. Is death just cheap or am I just skewed from the TCP refinery thing? Spend time chasing happiness when peace is all we need. Feel the full spectrum of emotion, welcome your sadness like a friend you missed seeing around the neighborhood of hurricane leaves. I watched her cut the bruises off fruit that fell from the tree. Snubbed her thumb and sucked the blood dry as if someone taught her young that water turns into wine. Here we go with all our needs. So many things, so many of me. Your body knows how to breath automatically watch them expand fully and release all necessity to control destiny because love or life comes easily when you think beautiful things of simplicity. When the swing set sits empty, my friend cuts the bruises off the peach and looks at me with such empathy, as if there’s a child in me that she’s dying to meet.