I wasn't going to stop

I wasn't going to stop.

I had a train to catch, a thing to do.

But the light was going amber on the top

of the school roof, and I looked through

the chain-link at the swings—

both moving slightly, nobody there,

the rubber seats torqued on their rings

like someone had just left. The air

smelled like it does before the streetlamps

kick on, that particular pause.

I gripped the fence. The distant ramps

of a bus somewhere. No cause

to stay. I stayed.

I don't know what I thought I'd see—

childhood? Something I'd mislaid?

The lights came on eventually

and I felt stupid, standing there

with my bag on my shoulder, late,

a grown person gripping chain-link where

kids play. I let go of the gate

and walked. The swings were still

moving when I turned back once.

That orange light behind the sill

of the roof. The bus. The months

since I'd stood still for anything

that didn't ask me to.