I want to be a kid again,
not a Toys r Us kid, they’re all gone,
or bicycle Warped tour kid,
that old thing’s rusting in the lawn.
Nothing special, just snow on the tongue when what little snow comes.
I’ll be waiting next year, enduring the fraught summer sun.
Masked strangers masquerading as neighbors.
Always did like the fall.
Leaves falling, distance growing small.
The divide between us all.
So do I.
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