Pit patter, sprint as he barefoot races through the concrete
jungle
Running past the corner store’s and outside markets, leaping
across tables as if they are hurdles and the city goers are his opponents
Swift and agile, w/ battery powered legs and balloon lungs
I watch him run as if anything less would be taking away his
freedom
A freedom that fills his eyes and fuels his body
Pit patter sprint past the taxi’s into the ally as he spider
man crawls up the ladder
But superman powers to fly from roof to roof
Who is this? It’s like he’s drowned out the world, society
and rules. In his playground these bullies don’t exist
He swings form the bridge like today fear and gravity are
his playmates.
Looking at the water below w/ a grin smeared on by
adrenaline
From pole to pole & wire to wire he’s made the bridge
his monkey bars and on his last swing he shoots into the air like a trapeze
artist, to land on the slide he’ll ride back down to the ground. Where he’ll
pit patter sprint.
Then his eyes open.. surrounded by wrinkles and a grey n
white mask, his superhero cape of newspaper keep him warm and his still bare
feet out of battery power.
Peering over he catches me looking, he knows I’d been
snooping in his dream
And with his tired grey eyes I could see the freedom deep
inside so he winked with his grin smeared across his face.
Then he closed his
eyes, laid back on the sidewalk of his concrete jungle to drift off to his pit
patter sprint as if anything less would be taking away his freedom.
