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Disabled people, nodding their heads to the music, terrible music.
They nod, they urge a grip of reality, a motion to practice their vitality.
Reality doesn’t agree, at all.
They were served home-made ice-cream.
They lick and smile but with a bitter left side of the lip, asking to be bitten by good luck.
To be continued, a restful lifetime, even the fireworks play for you tonight.
They demand, they dream of walking.
What they don’t know, as that we, the rest of people wite functional legs.
Don’t walk much, sometimes not at all.
And rant about the hot weather keeping us sticky, still during early September.
Wish to have more time when summer is over, but hurried feet press the gas paddle.
And them crippled ones, murmur: “Young Runners Issues” and got stuck on their seat while attempting to fool destiny and gravity all at once.
And nothing happened.
Legs remained tired from seating, and heads remained excited from imagining the impossible.
But where do we go now?
I am going to sleep, please don’t wake me up unless you have are going to charge me with kisses.
Goodbye.
