(place) by Malicious Kitten Wed Jan 24 2001 at 14:40:52
My secret place isn't a faraway island, or a lush jungle paradise with rhinestone birds and oil-painted creatures. My secret place is a playground, a park, where the halogen lamps light only the farthest corners of the dead grass and rusted monkey-bars. In the middle of the nightfog is the little merry-go-round: the type that you push and hop onto and let the circling spinning blur of grays and browns and blacks carry you away into oblivion. We sat there, stone-still. Even the mosquitoes thought we were dead, but for the occasional rising and falling of your chest against my back, my ribcage moving to press against your clasped hands. It was nice, with my head in the hollow of your shoulder, where your neck meets your collarbone in the perfect angle. I slept. You watched the creases of worry and mania and depression melt away like hot wax, drip into a carefree wintergreen grin. And you lifted gentle fingers to touch my eyelids and my lips. I woke slowly, lazily, to feel warm breath against my throat. You slept, now.

A dying playground can be Eden, if your heart is in the right place.

I like it! 1 C!