SHADOWS

We played in the sand, light breeze taking hold of our brown skin; I recall the calling of the robin, chased around our kidney road, an incessant obsession we followed until the hollow in our bones broke loose. How my hair tangoed the wind, resembling fingers of a pianist playing every black, white key. I drew a crimson house; all roads leading to it. Every landmark mapped within acres, every rosemary bush on adjacent sides of the street, every place where the road submerged unpredictable ends. You drew two figures, shadows describing the world. I placed my dirty hands like a tornado crunching through a steep hill, toppled them meaningless. I did not stop to think of the roads leading out. You drew two figures, shadows holding hands. Said it described the world. I did not stop.