Capture the Flag. Flapture the Cag.
There's something beautiful in the way that blood drips from a cut.
How the drop slithers down the side of your finger to the part right above the knuckle.
There's something beautiful about a crowd of people.
How the heads dodge and duck back and forth to get ahead or stay behind.
There's something extraordinary about the rain and the beat it makes against your windshield.
A steaming cup of tea next to a fogged up window.
A necktie wrapped around a your neck, not properly tied.
There's something about a letter in the mail with a far away address.
A record playing, then ends and bounces back to the middle and ends again.
Pencils with broken lead and chewed erasers.
No parking spots at your favorite store or restaurant.
Cats in windowframes as you walk by, them watching as you go.
The girl you love laughing.
An empty canvas, pictured in your mind a certain way, turning out entirely worse and better.
An encouraging word from someone you didn't expect.
Little House on the Prairie.
Bonanza.
The Price is Right.
Sesame Street, the old school stuff.
Elmo ["Rainbow, rainbow, rainbow"].
Hydroplaning.
Guy-love. There's nothing gay about it.
Air fresheners.
Wrapping paper with tape still stuck on it from three Christmases ago.
Christmas.
Tricycles.
Violin music.
Paisley.
Good tattoos on wrists.
A smile from a passerby.
A thick crying.
Old-fashioned glass milk bottles on the front porch.
Barbed-wire fences.
Tall grass with trampled spots where deer had slept.
A strawberry milkshake, the extra metal cup.
A firm handshake from someone you respect.
A good hug from someone you know well.
Holding hands with someone you love.
Styrofoam planets.
Wind chimes.
Third-grade sunday school. Twice.
A lucky penny.
A boring slideshow.
Eggnog. Too much.
Seeing someone happy who hasn't been for a long time.
Costumes.
Accents.
Dancing. Spontaneously.
A lightswitch.
Staples.
Crumpled up napkin after a good meal with someone you haven't seen in a long time.
A broken mirror, so sharp it cuts you.
The blood dripping down your finger. Right above the knuckle.
How the drop slithers down the side of your finger to the part right above the knuckle.
There's something beautiful about a crowd of people.
How the heads dodge and duck back and forth to get ahead or stay behind.
There's something extraordinary about the rain and the beat it makes against your windshield.
A steaming cup of tea next to a fogged up window.
A necktie wrapped around a your neck, not properly tied.
There's something about a letter in the mail with a far away address.
A record playing, then ends and bounces back to the middle and ends again.
Pencils with broken lead and chewed erasers.
No parking spots at your favorite store or restaurant.
Cats in windowframes as you walk by, them watching as you go.
The girl you love laughing.
An empty canvas, pictured in your mind a certain way, turning out entirely worse and better.
An encouraging word from someone you didn't expect.
Little House on the Prairie.
Bonanza.
The Price is Right.
Sesame Street, the old school stuff.
Elmo ["Rainbow, rainbow, rainbow"].
Hydroplaning.
Guy-love. There's nothing gay about it.
Air fresheners.
Wrapping paper with tape still stuck on it from three Christmases ago.
Christmas.
Tricycles.
Violin music.
Paisley.
Good tattoos on wrists.
A smile from a passerby.
A thick crying.
Old-fashioned glass milk bottles on the front porch.
Barbed-wire fences.
Tall grass with trampled spots where deer had slept.
A strawberry milkshake, the extra metal cup.
A firm handshake from someone you respect.
A good hug from someone you know well.
Holding hands with someone you love.
Styrofoam planets.
Wind chimes.
Third-grade sunday school. Twice.
A lucky penny.
A boring slideshow.
Eggnog. Too much.
Seeing someone happy who hasn't been for a long time.
Costumes.
Accents.
Dancing. Spontaneously.
A lightswitch.
Staples.
Crumpled up napkin after a good meal with someone you haven't seen in a long time.
A broken mirror, so sharp it cuts you.
The blood dripping down your finger. Right above the knuckle.