Tops of playgrounds roared from the skies

Fields of green never seemed to end.

Arms sprawled open to our sides, sent us to the clouds.

Sprinting from cootie contaminated hands Through a universe of slides and swings.

Vigorously smashing that blue marker

Bleeding all over the paper.

Masterpiece,

Everything, a masterpiece.

"Mangia, Mangia!"

Biscotti casualties, drowned in warm milk.

No worries,

No worries at all.

Except the crumbling of your favorite crayon,

Sending tremors through your bones.

Oh, son.

Unfilled applications Spam emails "Apply Now! Click Here"

Where are the endless green fields

"So, what do you want to go into?"

Where is Nonna

Roofs of playgrounds now visible

Stress from inscribed derivatives hold a scalpel

Picking at your brain.

Oh, son

Don’t you miss the times

Where tragedy

Was a broken crayon.