“A rowboat?”
wind kicks up
rustling the tree
my sneaker falls
whacks me on the head
“Oww.”
stagger around
my shoeless feet
find the toothy gravel:
“Oh, oh, ouch.”
finish my tree-and-gravel dance
sprawl over a brick border
in the flower bed
Mom calls us to late lunch:
“Jayce, you’re not allowed to play
in the flower beds at home. Why do
you think you could play in them here?”
guess I’m too busy thinking about
the rowboat in the ghost house next door!