the kutztown park water fountain 

was fed by clouds. 
white, grey, dark
clouds all of them coming to crouch 
in a single pipe. 
their spilling. the clouds above
asking each other "do you fear
becoming water?" 
children in a line
along the cement walkway.
all of us had mouths
with lips & tongues. the sun
drank us. dirt nestled
under our fingernails.
not far away the sandbox
made us architects.
yes, we were expert 
twig harvestors 
& cicada shell collectors. 
put our mouths 
too close to the opening 
where clear water 
breached. cool & round tasting.
our soft elbows. 
green rustling all around &
the whine of a swingset being swung. 
the life of a cloud 
inside our mouths. 
all of us standing above
& looking down on the playground
from our cloud.
a cloud voice telling us children
"be careful or 
you might evaportate 
& only see everything
from above." a bird 
cutting through a cloud.
thunderstorm would come
that night & i, a children,
would walk out & open my mouth
to catch rain drops.
where does 
the waterfountain wait?
the cloud in my veins 
helped me float
up to the top bunk
of my bed. i looked towards
the ceiling. blank.
playground boned. a bruise
on my shoulder. mulch fleck
in hair. the cloud
slowly departing,
leaving out my ears
& my mouth & my nose.
nightlight blinking 
to dark.