Among all the revelry,
in the glow of the fire,
you swallowed me with a stare
and turned me inside out
With your green glass eyes
and the curve of your lips
and the taste of your skin
and the heat of your breath
You are everything like the high I get
when I’m riding my bike
through the summer evening air
and the songs ringing in my ears
have me smiling so wide
my cheeks go sore
In spite of grass stained knees
and a dozen mosquito bites,
I could listen to you talk all night
and thank the stars for keeping me alive
long enough to taste my name
on your tongue.
-M. Rockett
Do you remember that feeling of riding your bike on a summer evening when you were a kid? There was something magical about it. The way the wind blew through my hair and the heat of the day had diminished, but remnants still rose off the pavement. Remembering all the fun I had that day, and knowing that tomorrow I got to wake up and do it all over again. Excitement, wonder, joy. I still do my best to catch glimpses of that little girl on her bike that was me.
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