maybe one day we'll look back at these faded stickers and remember who we were.
maybe one day we'll hear the lighthearted laughter between the cracks in the sidewalk once more, maybe once again we'll come to love the sound of chalk on pavement, maybe one day we'll remember the people we used to be.
the laughter that filtered between the cracks in the sidewalk / the skinned knees and scratched elbows etched into this yellow-and-blue playground / the squeak of the abandoned swing set
the grass that fell so comforting upon my feet and the copper stains on our hands not yet from blood, but from the rust that barely held this playground together. the black swing that filled with water always after it rained, the black slide that burned you in the summer and held spiders beneath, the grass that caught us when we fell off backwards and the water gun fights between the barricade of pine trees and evergreens. the smell of smoke drifting off from your back porch, a cigarette stuck in your now long gone great-grandmother's mouth. your mother with a prison record and many divorces, the kids that sprung forth as an effect. but you were still siblings.
do you remember the summers when we sat on his porch late at night
no soul to watch beyond the crickets and moths
where the day seemed to never come and the twilight and dusk lasted forever
where the sun rolled over the hill in the farm beyond so easily and gracefully
not yet long and tormenting
i wonder if you remember the train that used to race its way around the base of your christmas tree
i wonder if you remember making me choose the shittiest sword in the barrel so as to ensure your victory
i wonder if you remember—
