Crash

I think I was ten.

Running through the sprinkler

in joyous ecstasy we

charged towards each other and

crashed;

it was

summer, and

the continuous stream of freezing

hose water must have

blinded us.

The next minute we were

on the grass, gasping

for air,

the oxygen squeezed

from our lungs,

tears mixing with the

hose water.

You and I

were breathless

but only for a moment.

I am nineteen; it is

fall.

I was running away from you.

We never crashed,

but somehow

a blow knocked me down, regardless.

I'm still waiting

for my lungs to inflate again.