Fly Away Space Ship

a blip of peaceful summer nights :3

I remember swinging to this song. How the ethereal sound used to carry me higher and higher. Everything would float away and I could almost touch the stars. If I could only swing high enough.
Viewing the moon between leaf-less branches;  it was all so surreal.
My best friend swung beside me, listening to her own anthems. Neither of us would speak. We'd stop in turn to have a cigarette or a drink of our diet soda we bought at the Speedway just a short walk away - down that muddy hill of a soccer field.
The town was dead. Everyone was sleeping safely in their mass produced beds, beneath their Wal-Mart sheets while I was leaving earth.
Who would've dreamt that a little bit of plastic and chains could be a space ship?
Well, when you spend your whole life trying to escape an anonymous source of mysterious chaos, anything can be a star-ship... only if you feel it right.
And oh, on those summer nights, there was no lack of feeling. The warm air would whip my shirt across my arms, across my chest- and that was the only reminder I had that I was still on this planet, still existing like everyone else.
My mind would wander... well, not to say I'd think of anything really. I don't recall thinking of anything at all most nights. I only soaked up the music, breathed the lyrics, and bled the emotion through the repetitive forward back of my legs. My own yin and yang.
It was so serene, those nights. All guilt would fly away with the specks of airplanes. Every reason I had to hate myself, or anything really, would dissolve. I'd realize it was only ash that I was holding in my pocket. And mid-swing I'd pull it out and let it fall, return to the earth.
I swear, I learned what peace was. At 3 am at a school playground, what might've been seen as ne'er-do-wells loitering... all it was was really two lost people just searching for something tangible... some kind of happiness. And that happiness was found in the simplicity of motion and sound.

Author's Note

what kind of genre is this? :O I can't figure it out >.<

Reviews

[bob, small b. aka invs]

there is something zen-like in swinging on a swing. i visited playgrounds well into my 20s, then in my 30s i had the chance again when i took my own daughter to them. i pretended it was for her enjoyment. now i'm approaching 60 and playgrounds still call to me, but i resist the call. something's just not right about older men hanging round playgrounds. maybe i'll have to make a 3 am visit to one someday just to remind myself what i'm missing. thank you for the flashback.

genre? um..... short observational piece. not exactly on the pop down menu.