To me you are an ice-skating rink
perfectly flat, and hard
that I step onto from the mushy rubber floor before
having gazed at the skaters in so many colors
and there being so many spaces to slip
and land on one's butt
with a smile for any watching.
I'd be happy to split my lip in falling and
mark my place in blood on you
while someone just barely misses my face
and the blade of their skate goes war-story close.
It's always so nice for me at this skating rink
with the sno-cone wind breathing in my ear.
actually, I'm warm
maybe because I have superpowers in reality and
I should act more brave next time I'm afraid.
anyway, I can't retie my laces.
I'll be stopping back by the lockers.
let's get some cocoa, oh pal, oh bud, I think it's seventy-five
and Dad is picking us up at three o'clock anyway!
