The stars were glittering and surfacing
with the sky still a brilliant pink.
Jeff stood at the church’s brick wall
on his birthday,
as we assaulted him with water balloons.
Our grins were fierce and jubilant,
our faces dripping with vindicated tears
made by his neon cannon.
It was our only chance,
a once in a lifetime opportunity
so we devised a plan.
Two of us carried the water,
the other two carried the ladder.
We called for help and Jake held it,
sturdy and safe against the ground
as the four of us
crawled slowly towards the sky.
The ladder jounced under our weight,
our hands shook in exhilaration
and terror of what might occur.
But only a few more steps,
and then the heavens and earth met
at our anxious fingertips.
A brief sprint across the rooftop
and then we make it rain
on our supreme enemy of adolesence,
as though our bodies were stormy clouds
and our tears the rain of justice.
As Jeff ran into the safety of the church,
we spun in circles on the roof.
We twirled and ran and lifted our hands
to the the skies in gratitude.
Our feet ached and our knees scraped,
but we wished to never come down.
What a life it would be
to spin for the sky forever.
Yet the night was coming to an end.
Again the ladder was held by Jake below,
and we shuffled our way back
to the consecrated and sodden ground,
feeling as though it was
our greatest and most intimate enigma.
But what a moment it had been
to feel on top of the world
with the most natural high there is.