Nostalgia

(12/09)
When I was ten we played on the monkey bars
And I wished for a tail that could open jars.
After recess we compared calluses as teachers herded us
Into the garish classrooms all the while singing and clapping.

Ten years later the monkey bars hurt my untrained hands
But I remember chicken fights, scabbed knees, and thinking of you
Only as a friend.
On this empty play equipment I still see your face challenging me from the end
Of the bars
But I can’t even swing across the short distance
Without letting go

In my dreams I see a new face at the end of the bars
Where all I want, who I need waits.
But without calluses I can’t make my tall body, knees bent
To avoid the black mat, swing to you.
Each bar hurts me in places
I didn’t know I needed protection.

One bar and I shake of the pain with gritted teeth—
Too fun to quit with a little sting.
Two bars and I think about letting go, giving up
The pain consumes me and I just want it to end.
Three bars and I’m done.
Reaching through air trying to grab solid metal
Finding nothing and
Falling
Watching as your image dissolves into air
At the end of the bars.

-M