An hour ago, I closed

my eyes and imagined

I was a dandelion seed

floating on the wind.

I haven’t acted with

spontaneity in years,

haven’t drifted over

ceramic bunnies in

front yards or bounced

up warm windshields or

hovered across asphalt

like a hockey puck

across the ice in a decade.

I don’t want to be

a young man whose dreams

get blown away again.

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