Gravity is different by
The Sound.
It pulls heavy and only at
obtuse angles.
Obstinate ampersand obdurate.
Reorientation of the body required.
Leaning forward or back in
pendulous periodicities.
Diabolical hills slanting, paving the path into the noonday sun.
We no longer need wings like Icarus to get
close enough to be burned.
To melt.
Beadlets of perspiration drop into my eyes.
I pretend it stings with the sunscreen
I forgot to put on me.
I am not made-up.
No protection from the ol’ grease-paint.
No quarter from the shade of trees, these days.
Freckles bloomed on my face two days ago.
I catch full-on colo/u/r, now.
An intersection provides me two options:
i) turn 90° and
go horizontal.
ii) climb to-wards the sun.
Y-axis at the point of origin. Straight vertical.
I go up. Higher.
My breath catches-up with the momentum of my stride…..
…… 30 seconds later.
My heart catches my breath
…………60 seconds later……..
I reach the near-top.
False tree-line, per se.
My face suddenly blooms into a rose.
Red. Ruddy.
Like someone made me blush rather too easily.
I relish.
I smell active.
I actively smell
through nasal inhalation
and oral exhalations.
WrittenCasey 