Treehouse

Title from I'm From Barcelona (MySpace)



We found it held aloft in the brown and green palms of nature,

pieced together from planks and beams and plywood

all decades old,

turned gray, then green, now black.



But it didn't creak.

It sloshed and sucked,

which should've been a warning,

but it didn't creak,

so it was sturdy.



It didn't even snap when the flooring gave.

It just sloshed and squealed as the damp wood opened up.

The only snap was your leg when you hit the trunk,

then a thud when you hit the ground.



The next couple of hours get hazy

in the fog of that early morning forest.

I know I ran until my muscles were sore and firm

and my sneakers were as damp as that floor.

I know you got out of those woods eventually.

And I know your mother never let us speak to each other again.