Son on shoulders,
Through the carnival crowd
I lift him
Wishing he could lift me
We could ascend under Mary’s umbrella
When the winds shift from the East to West
Together we’d jump into a chalk dream
Defended from venom
Defended from the hurt
Defended from the drugs
Needed to sort through this mess.
Red pills, blue pills, choices made
Let’s purple them together,
A much happier color for new shoes
I walk in
Son on shoulders.
I whisper to the ground:
I, too, am afraid of everyone.
I, too, feel them swallowing my soul.
Image: “Broad Shoulders” Iby Kim Roberti