and then we would laugh at it in the end.

Days ,

when we used to throw sticks at each others faces

and then we would laugh at it in the end.

Locked our feet into the colored footsteps

stated with utmost,

Truth!

Honesty!

Love!

For peace.

And then we would laugh at it in the end.

As I stand under the steamy water

where the fog circles me like past memories,

I have become aware.

I have become.

Reckoned

Days,

of skips where we touched the moon.

And the grass left kisses on our clothes.

Of carpet cookies. 

Smothered together like a pack of sardines. 

I could say we were peas in a pod,

but there was always more for just two.

The school of fish

we were.

And then we would laugh at it in the end

Even when we stopped throwing sticks.

Words moved us through. 

on loafing 

on stairs

on stage. 

Through performative acts of being,

we saw it all behind the wings. 

So yes still, 

we would laugh at it in the end

Days.

As I am cleansed by the stream,

I throw my stick.

But I can’t laugh with concrete 

Don’t you see?