(set to "if ever" by paula fuga, jack johnson, and ben harper)

climb up on that picnic table
and then lay your head down
and look up

look at the sun-lit glowing leaves
nature's stained glass canopy
a mosaic of green shards
glued together by the blue of the sky

the bent ridges of the wood
and the specs of paint
still holding on
through every winter

your head
rested on history
from lovers' first kisses
to the tears and blood of strangers

you close your eyes
but the sun
fills the skin of your eyelids
with incandescent orange
a return to the womb

for a moment

before you open your eyes
and are greeted
with blindness

that slowly brings you back
to the weight of your head
on the hard wood of the picnic table

the scrape on your elbow, or your knee
it doesn't matter
because it reminds you
that you're still here

that you have so many paths to choose from
paths that can make you happy