not too high. or too far. but i flew.
i spilled my birthday wishes here a few weeks ago and then, almost like a dream, when we pulled up to our inn in oregon, the day after my birthday, the community-beach facing-back porch on the log cabin lodge next to us had a bouquet of big pink balloons tied to the railing. i asked a girl curled up in a quilt, reading a book and completely unaware of my curiosity, if they belonged to anyone. she shook her head no in an irritating way, with barely an eyebrow raised.
so i untied them.
and then i played. and laughed. and pretended.
then i tied them back up
with hopes that some other girl
whose eyes grow large with the idea that it's possible for wishes to come true as long as they're whispered into the ears of fairies and whose quirky but overly large and sensitive heart
worn on her brightly colored sleeve
would find them
so that they she could fly