9/28/12
He wobbles heavy, drunk
with anticipation. His
legs at best a frustration,
an ungainly tether to this
carpet, this earth. He
raises both hands to
the ceiling, face contorted
a wail forming on his lips.
I bend down to him, toss
his body into the air, watch
his face split with joy.
I can appreciate the gravity
of this moment, the manner
in which weight gives way
to flight; the split seconds
when body ceases, when
air is all that matters.
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