summer in mimosa by jim dolan

one summer, my tenth, i think,
we spent living on the roof of the garage.

we kept a pair of ten foot tall stilts leaning up
against the edge of the roof, and would from
time to time step onto them, go striding down

the alley, or around the backyard, overhung with
mimosa.   how lordly it felt to stride the world

from ten feet in the air, how uncanny.   how i never
wanted that summer to end, the summer of walking
in mimosa, living in the treetops. the last summer,

i think, that we would remain untouched, above
it all, in defiance of all gravity, striding to the limits
of our