Stomping Ground Ghosts

When I was little I had a big pack of friends. The big kids did once too, and they romped along the streets of our town.

But as I got older they distanced themselves, and each became a long shadow cast by the setting sun, they disappeared, and left us as heirs to their suburban stomping ground.

We each swore up and down that nothing like that would happen to us, but somewhere along the way the sun did go down.

We split, and our laughter got stuck deep in the crags of the rocks.
 

It is night now, and we cast no shadow.

We linger with all the hollow shells of the big kids

As ghosts

In the dark corners of town that we used to light up

With the force of each other.