The scalding swing groans slowly
up and down. The skritch skratch of chalk,
faded colors, walk and wash over
faded colors, layered and sunbleached.
Silver aluminum buttons in the sun-yeowch!
sizzling, consuming blackness.
Hear the slapping of feet against the blackness
a skip and a jump and an “ice cream, ice cream, cherry on top,”
coming closer and closer.
Chasing hands, reaching out to touch,
but just out of reach.
Yelling and pulling
at fistfulls of hair and screeching
with harsh laughter
(disapproving faces look away).
“You’re it!”
and footsteps, out of breath,
loud and gangly, heartbeat drums.
grubby hands knead chocolate, earthen
mulch onto dirty, laughing cheeks and earthen smiles and
“Tag, no tagbacks!”