“don’t run into the street!”
we were warned as children
playing with pastel-colored chalk
in the driveway or setting up
lemonade stands on
spring-green lawns’ edge
but as we’ve grown older
there’s something thrilling
innocently rebellious
about dancing at night
down the imaginary line
in front of our house
curving gently ’round
the bold blind bend
especially while barefoot
feeling years of worn down gravel
graze against the
blackened soles of our feet
swallowing airy laughter and crafting smiles
that you can only see in the flickering light
of a neighbor’s lamppost
sometimes the dark brings out the truth
sometimes the night brings out the youth