Swing Time

I was never much for Robert Frost
with all that repetitive stopping by woods bs
but I believe that swinging on birches
might be a good aspiration.

Swinging in general is a good idea.

I like a swing with a leather strap for a seat
that hugs your hips and tells you
it will never let you go
no matter if you are swinging so high
that the big hollow poles that anchor you
jump right off the ground.

My friend Doris was a great swinger
with a swing set in a corner of the yard
the grass worn away by the endless scrape of sneakers.
She’d pump her feet till I swear
she’d do a loop dee loop right over the bar
though my sisters would deny it.

Her swing had metal seats of the kind
that got so hot in summer sun
we’d have to wet them down with the hose
taking a nice long drink too from the old rusty end
and then the slippery metal would trick us
if we didn’t hold tight and throw us off at the top of the arc.

If you can’t be a swinger
be a pusher of swingers.
Doris could push as richly as she swung
with perfection in her placement
her hands never pounding my shoulders
or shoving my ass off the seat
but squarely in the sweet center of my back.

Two years ago I swung through the trees
though not birches Mr. Frost
on the zipline in Jamaica
and I felt again the hands of my friend
propel me
safely into the next breeze.