Sun is up, 29 More whimsy And laughing Music, Food that's so good it hurts my face, Warm crooks of arms, legs and necks to burrow in without thinking More lying on grass And sobbing at films while squishing hands Walking into waves Singing with a band More goosebumps and paint Spontaneous goofy dances Less space in the bed Fewer questions in my head Waking up excited or at least rested To see and be seen and get dolled up for groceries Get out of this quicksand Of guilt and shame and every day the same And it doesn't even have anything to do with me Not really Not at all |