I got on the swing.
It was cold. A little damp. Years of me rubbed into the surface.
Hello. To the brown floor of planet.
It's cold.
If I did a handstand, how long do you think I could hold it?
I fell.

Farther up went my swing.
Circular. Grilled cheese. I am a mess.
Laughter.
Do you think seventh grade is better?
Worse math grades.
Then again,
Higher went my swing.
I try to do a pirouette,
But my eyes spin in their pockets - 
Sockets, get it right!
And my feet stick to the ground.
The skin spinning around itself. Like a tie-dye.
That didn't work.

I fell in the water yesterday.
It felt like a cold nickel. Iron on my tongue.
Plus, nuts (macademia) taste like nausea.
Farther went my swing.
But I knocked into the fence.
So I stopped swinging. I went inside.
My veins throbbing with nickels and nuts.
The swing was still going.