Grown-ups Not Allowed
I live in a nameless town that only wandering
children could find, only they could imagine it.
I was born twenty-two years ago and
a number six candle will illuminate
my next fifty birthday cakes.
A town where excitement worked as oxygen,
inhaling as we marched, zigzagging
through the trees and jousting sticks
upward with the rhythm of our song.
We folded pirate hats out of newspaper
and a cardboard box morphed
into a ship before our eyes.
This ship let us triumph over rotting cold
and we floated past growing old.
Adventure roared and soared until
the day we found contentment.
The jubilee filled us like hot air balloons
taking us around the world.
We exhaled our way to the ground,
resting our bones that traveled the earth
and our eyes that still magically sparked.
The dimming of our fire was prevented
by the skipping of adulthood,
the dullness of over investing responsibility.
Instead we grew from children to elders,
basking in a life well lived.
Hopefully some of my old Athens friends will read and remember back to the magical place that we were a part of, created, and enjoyed. I fucking miss all of you a ton. And as I said to you many times before, so long.