We killed a bird last week

with a slingshot and it fell

Trapped another in a cage 

mended its broken wing

We caught grasshoppers with our bare hands

Picked them in between rocks and glass

In between houses on the dirt road

Watching the sunset blind our eyes

Watching the hill be on fire

Watching our neighbors egg the cars

Riding our bikes into the night

Falling on pebbles 

Rocks digging into knees

Dirt between our nails

We would throw shoes onto roofs to see it stick

Throwing paper towels mixing it with soap and water

Pasting it to the ceiling and running away

Surfing on cardboard down a hill

Landing on concrete, elbows marking the pavement

Climbing on fences with hands on rooftops during the night

Watching the stars, pointing out the dippers. 

Coming home, not home anymore