treat these stairs as bleachers
while hundreds swarm at the curb below.
and when you get to the top,
knock yourself out with some kettle bell cartwheel.
this is how you mock the news
without the trouble of swallowing whole
rulers aplenty for each open house
your translucent children refuse to attend.
feel the jolt of a busted knee
and the flap of an open book bag.
headphones collapsed on shoulder blades wide
while eyes sigh shut behind frosted glass.
I’ve had this jacket for too long
and it holds its own without a word
about why it wrinkles in spring’s glow
or cold black tea spilled days before.