See -- Saw

Little girl-long hair flying.

Up, down.

Up, down.

High as you can go-but then it gets scary.

Goodnight, love.

All you want is to feel the solid

Smack.

Of your feet on the wood chips, dirty dust, hot rubber.

I’m not ready.

And then suddenly, flying feels like the best thing in the world.

I want that.

It’s the in-between that’s the worst.

Right after, coming down, all you want is

gravity again. Stable, predictable gravity.

It wasn’t               enough.

But even that gets old.

And sailing up, all you want is to get there

Finally be brave enough to stay in the sky instead of flying back down.

I’m ready.

But back down you come; always.

Because you haven’t learned to overcome the jolt in your stomach,

the way you always feel off-balanced.

You always ride the see-saw; you’re an expert.

I thought it wasn’t a problem the whole time,

but I think I just didn’t realize.

But that little girl is growing up;

She’s getting too big for those childish games.

And nobody’s calling you love anymore.