We rode our bicycles freely on that
warm july day,
our feet hanging off of the pedals as if we
were flying-
sailing the swollen land waves into a sea
of laughter-
an ocean of fluid moments,
swirling like a tempest,
and drenching us in liquid smiles-
each droplet collected into our minds
like watercolor photos in a well worn scrapbook-
meticulously quilted like random stamps
in a well traveled passport-
if we had sails, we would glide the surface
to our blue destinies-
if we had wings, we would soar to those fabled heights
and free our souls from the cryptic dust
of the top shelf*