May 31, 2007


...we spent dawn at the playground riding a chipmunk and a tipped turtle. We grew muddy and shoes flew and dew clung to our backsides. Picnic tables humped and we road a fire truck and sand spots doubled as burial grounds. The swing set stomped its feet and we rode our seats without meeting eachother's swinging stride. We left without finding the perfect pink rock and the sun shone neon in my rearview mirror....

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