going into a kick , a sharp jerk down ,
then rising in flight on something inside us
that jumps through our skin and carries us with it
and us holding on , the bar climbing in fron t of us ,
our murderous bodies going on past
and then going over and out as we gain
our momentum and break the surface like flying fish .
The taps on the heels and toes of our shoes flash
in the darkness . The ligh ts in the win dows of houses
we see as we fly , the neon signs of the drugstore
all in a blur as we go in circles like planets
arcing the sky, like pinwheels of flesh ,
kicking up parks from our flashing heels
and move with a motion not wholly our own
till the stars that swim in the blood of our eyes
turn into the lights of the park , turn into
the window of all the houses to come in our lives
and all the people inside them we love .
And only the bar was real . The bar led
u up and slowly lowered us down
as the giant swing 'lost its momentum,
and we swung in staggering arcs and dropped off
and fell like death in a pile of bones on the sand,
then rose again, stunned into life, forever inside the wall.
