oh yeah. I forgot.
Under the stars.
What is adventure for you?
Pirates, heists
guns blazing in ebullient fury,
men dying around you,
saving the day.
Damsel. In. Distress.
SAVED and swung away
on vines, while calling
to your monkey companions.
Seven seas. Elaborate castles.
I disagree.
I don't remember the last time
I thought of the stars.
heh, my mind dwells
mainly on scrapless
memories of cinderblock,
and G.I. Joes.
Do you remember your room,
your real one, at home,
being new?
That was an adventure.
Too mundane.
Fine. I'll go on.
A dashing man on a bike
With firefly dreams buzzing
into headlights, while he slinks
past people as quickly as he can.
I remember thinking how good it
felt to be moving fast
because of your own energy.
I wish I knew where I had been going,
because I might have been
able to get there. Instead,
I went towards the glow
of halogen field lights and saw
people scurry about their fieldly business.
There were trophies in cases
harking back to a day when
sports meant something -
that was a tuesday.
The game was a foot
when he raced the cars,
beating a bus to the curb
and getting a wow from
the car behind him.
If only he could've gone
just a bit faster and
ended up somewhere much farther away.
But how far can a bike take you?
I was of the opinion that it didn't matter.
It may take me across the country some day.
I was also of the opinion, as I looked up
that there were enough balconies here
that Romeo, were he still alive
would call this place home.
So someday when I trap my fireflies
in little jars, and let them meet
my G.I Joes, this time without the guns,
and the headlights, and the wet paint,
I'll have ventured far enough to be in ad.
And know where my balcony, my home,
and my cinderblock walls
really are.
What is adventure for you?
Pirates, heists
guns blazing in ebullient fury,
men dying around you,
saving the day.
Damsel. In. Distress.
SAVED and swung away
on vines, while calling
to your monkey companions.
Seven seas. Elaborate castles.
I disagree.
I don't remember the last time
I thought of the stars.
heh, my mind dwells
mainly on scrapless
memories of cinderblock,
and G.I. Joes.
Do you remember your room,
your real one, at home,
being new?
That was an adventure.
Too mundane.
Fine. I'll go on.
A dashing man on a bike
With firefly dreams buzzing
into headlights, while he slinks
past people as quickly as he can.
I remember thinking how good it
felt to be moving fast
because of your own energy.
I wish I knew where I had been going,
because I might have been
able to get there. Instead,
I went towards the glow
of halogen field lights and saw
people scurry about their fieldly business.
There were trophies in cases
harking back to a day when
sports meant something -
that was a tuesday.
The game was a foot
when he raced the cars,
beating a bus to the curb
and getting a wow from
the car behind him.
If only he could've gone
just a bit faster and
ended up somewhere much farther away.
But how far can a bike take you?
I was of the opinion that it didn't matter.
It may take me across the country some day.
I was also of the opinion, as I looked up
that there were enough balconies here
that Romeo, were he still alive
would call this place home.
So someday when I trap my fireflies
in little jars, and let them meet
my G.I Joes, this time without the guns,
and the headlights, and the wet paint,
I'll have ventured far enough to be in ad.
And know where my balcony, my home,
and my cinderblock walls
really are.