An Ode to Spring

I love Spring. It’s even taller right before dusk. I love it when the grass is just cut, pieces are thrown onto curbs like hair on the barber shop floor. I used to really want sidewalks. As a kid, I wanted them. I wanted to walk on them all the way across the world. Sidewalks, they way the line the street, they’re like sandy beaches. And the way black tar holds onto the heat from the Sun. And we all know day will be back tomorrow. (For now).

That’s what the cooler ocean reminds us of, sitting adjacent to blazing hot sand. And white colored sidewalks, too. It’s during those points where we rest, it’s a reminder into a tomorrow. I can see ants crawling back towards pavement cracks, wondering where that giant cracker crumb is, Bug2037 stole from park kid day prior. He bragged about it being double his weight, while park kid bragged about how red his face got from hanging upside down from monkey bars.

Outside, I used to walk on those yellow, cup-like things while holding onto the green plastic sting that connected me to the cup, and then the cup to the street. I am not sure what they’re called. Not sure I ever knew. I used to think it were the cone, the earth, my scoop, only I was the one upside-down.

I used to enjoy doing that until one went missing. I always imagined some small animal with a long neck took it and wore it as a hat. But that’s impossible as they haven’t figured out how to breed miniature giraffes yet. When they do, I will call him Earl. He will wear hats. He will be forbidden to do head-spins in front of any monkey. I want to bottle spring up right now and hand it out on my way home. I want to remind everyone how it’s all that time during the in-between that matters. It’s that time you’re standing on the dark part of the black roads, it’s high noon, that’s when you remember about now. It’s the time spent unthunk.

And it’s Spring. Spring, it’s what’s for dinner.

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