the bark tore at my young skin
palms scraped raw I did not care
on top of the world with nothing mooring me to soil and sidewalk
I imagined no one could find me
invisible
ephemerous
no longer of this world
the long loop of life that has unfurled
50 years at least 45
straight out the rear view
I can still feel the skin on my palms gently abraded
tingling with the joy this height of life
as clear as if it were yesterday