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Pink Children

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It could have been me,
or any one of my friends,
invincible and immortal,
the thick gusts of wind in our lungs
and our full bosoms
alive and pink with youth.

It could have been me,
or any one of my friends,
unaware and ignorant,
believing our own hype
and putting our brains,
using perhaps, even less than ten percent of it,
on autopilot.

It could have been me,
or any one of my friends,
about to graduate,
about to congratulate ourselves for our four year milestone,
finishing the last lap
and starting a new race.

It could have been me,
or any one of my friends,
to turn with no signal as to
where we were going,
and to have the immortality snatched,
the gust of wind pouring one last time out of our lungs
and out into the sky.



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