Instapoetry

It was the day we laughed so hard
we made the black tulips bloom

I was four
it was stormy

we were running like cats
a game of statue
happiness all balled up in our lips
shooting out of us in shrieks and bellows

I'm a porcupine
she declared

and I decided I was too

a kind porcupine
with nothing to do
but chase the wind

they say it whips you in the face
but this isn’t how it works
if you run hard enough
the wind bores right into you

I don’t remember anything else
except the smell of the weeds
sweet as chocolate

the wind carried the rest away.

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