I was five, you, ten years older
And you had me straddling
The saddle of your broad shoulders
You, charging like a stallion, around
The suburban garden, sun-bright.
Me, so high above the ground
Screaming with panic and delight
Trying, through my laughter,
To shout out, “Left!”, “No Right!”
To avoid the near disaster
Of crashing through the monstera
Or the jacaranda
Or of...
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