the playground was more of a place
where children
ran home
with broken arms
and legs.
the bars constructed out
of old plumbing pipes
welded weakly
together.
the chain swings with a rubber
seat.
no doubt death awaited as
you went higher and higher.
and that metal wheel,
littered with
frightened children,
that spun around in wobbly
fashion,
faster and faster
it would go
as some maniacal father
pushed it to the limit.
how we screamed and hung
on for dear life.
and that slide,
twenty feet high,
made of shiny metal,
so hot our skin singed
as we slid down
into the gravel pit.
and our mother smiling
ear to ear at the bottom,
saying,
now wasn't that fun?
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