How like kites we are;
always chasing
the invisible,
our tail,
into pale blue.
We climb alone
with eyes like hearts
soaring and falling,
as if seeking
some unknown summit.
With our tails out,
carefree,
prone to shift our position.
We shove, heave
in every new direction.
We clear these
imaginary obstacles,
seek greater glory, until
too battered by a life
of hapless navigating;
hopeful to not crash,
float back down
to magnetic ground.
Maybe, we never
set course again,
safe in the boy's closet.
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