A scary celebration with dark hallways and running had just taken place. Best friends were in the field with tall metal statues. Time to fly, so walk up the hill a little and run for momentum, kick off. Only got a little air between feet and ground. Heavy body; why does a light body become weighted so quickly? It was the right time to fly. Does anybody have enough energy? Now all of us on the hill, all dense perfect circle rocks thrown into a reflection pool of water, no, metal instead. Thudded slowly. Finally with exercise and practice our perfect circle bodies became aerodynamically smooth stones, and we shimmered off the hill into the air. Weaving through the metal statues some of our wings were more apt for tight turns. I had doggy-trained tricks, having watched a red Australian Cattle Dog as he maneuvers body between posts, every muscle utilized simultaneously, a block of twists and strength. As a mass we flew through a brick neighborhood, a Philadelphian metropolis, passing a sprinkler and young tumbling boys, moms in garden jeans stretching hamstrings before dealing with the peas.
Excited with hopes of future kisses, going to the house of the boy I loved who didn't love me yet but his family would. The wood floors would squeak as I walked to the guest bedroom at the entrance of the house for a blanket; pulled off the bottom quilt, the pillows atop moving with the tug but ending up still on the bed, a clean swipe. Mom of the house was being a host with older brother's friends, and watched as I ruined her organization. "I will fix it." Outside with blanket I was the hero watching out for the continuation of clean dry butts. Sun would've been the hero if I wasn't here.
My own mom came to pick me up as if from a sleepover birthday party, too much pizza and staying up all night scared of being alone in a room full of girls all better friends than me despite my having known all of them for longer. So glad to see mom.