Playground
“Play is the highest form of research.” ~ Albert Einstein
Hooking one leg over, we pushed off the bars head-first
toward the damp asphalt.
Hair grazed the ground.
We rose pumping at the top, to pause
fall again and again,
like mechanical dolls.
Shoulders wrenched up, the force of our bodies hurled.
Sound and vision blurred.
There was only the spinning world, slick friction of the bar
burning our hands, behind our knees.
Some fell, slammed to ground, grinding pebbles into old wounds.
Children ran screaming to hopscotch or jump rope,
chasing or being chased.
Those not brave were pushed aside.
A teacher sailed at the edge of the chain-link fence.
Children searching for safety trailed her like small boats.
We had no words yet to say about the smooth polish of cold steel.
What could we tell of muscles that throbbed and ached?
Of launching out into whatever
joy we could find?