trampoline
at least there are no spectators.
the first attempt to catch air is not promising. am i really this old? am i really this pathetically weighted down by my own negativity. am i really lacking so much in personal will that i can not scrounge the vivacity to jump? fuck no…jump cabrona. jump now.
the wind around me is taunting, encouraging. biting and reviving. working up the momentum, my shadow findind its way out onto the lawn gives me hope…or maybe i’m just jumping too close to the edge. shake it off.
my hair is whipping around my face and a sudden surge of energy dumps into my system. my lungs and throat screaming at the invasion of december air. my pants are inching down with every impact. my shoulders burn, very unappreciative of the reckless flight pattern. i must look like an albatross.
‘giddy is a good word’ i think to myself as the giggling sets in. a sports bra would have been in order. i don’t remember quite this much turbulence the last time i was on a trampoline.
fingertips are starting to get numb andi am suddenly very aware of the ring on my right ring finger. rosiness sets into a pale face and the blood drops to the soles of my feet. butt drop and stand back up, ooooh i’m such a badass.
my chest is ready to implode. maybe i should sit down. no just a few minutes longer, my heart will be fine. atrophied from a lack of circulation. maybe just that…or maybe…
the bitter bile threatens to rise in my throat and mind, but descent and impact jam it back down. it’s time to lay back and stare at the sky. milky blue stretched convex lense to heaven. nothing to magnify. perfect.
had to pull the hoodie over my face to keep from floating away. only the whisps of willow languishing in the breeze are visible in the periphery.
that’ll do.
