I sit in a swing in a public park, middle of the night.
The stars, even in the country, still are too, too few.
I swing back and forth, trying to touch the sky above,
all the same.
A simple pleasure, my favorite thing as a young child.
Always trying to reach the sky, to leave Earth, to fly.
The rising and falling of my stomach as I reached higher,
too close to the sun.
Older, just coming out of a partiers haze, looking for,
something innocent and pure, to make me whole again.
I swing back and forth, the stars I know are in reach now,
too close to the Earth.