go, baby, go!
run headlong into thickets
where blackberry bushes grab at bare ankles,
over twisted roots,
through the sunshine and busted-sprinkler spray,
trip along the uneven, patchy grass,
then trip and bleed and run again.
fill up on memories
of stick guns and whittled spears,
of tag you’re it and running so fast
you swear you might could take off,
of the slingshot welts and screams.
feel that bright sting of sweat in your eyes
and the sting of friends who moved away too soon.

go, baby, go!
there is no subtext in a melting ice cream dinosaur.
there is no mystery in a late summer day.
get lost in the wonders, kiddo,
of hot sidewalks covered with
chalk drawings of helicopters and jet cars,
of finally getting jokes,
of drinking coppery water straight from the hose,
of laughing without caring.
know that i celebrate as i curse
when you smack me on the ear
and bite me with a peanut-buttery mouth.

go, baby, go!
grab the live wire of being outside with both hands,
these days were not made for mother’s embrace;
not until every dry twig has been snapped,
every ant trail followed,
every caterpillar bottled,
every bad guy shot dead.
not until the creek has been soaked up into your cuffed overalls
well up to your knees,
the crayfish have pinched raw the webbing of your fingers,
and the evening wind bites into sunburnt skin.
not until the day has grown dim and hued with pink and orange,
and streaks of violet creep under the clouds.

go, baby, go!
carve out a ravine in the rocky mud
and call it home.
stick in a flag made from a twig and a faded piece of a cereal box.
we claim this land in the name of off-brand frosted flakes,
in the name of not being able to count so good yet,
in the name of losing our pocket money and beautiful shiners,
in the name of distressed mothers yelling names from front doors,
in the name of amber street lamps coming on before they should,
in the name of who cares, who knows, and who wants to play another round.
go, baby, go!
and know
that i will be right behind you.