I heard a man’s voice
from across the new skate park:
“It’s a skater’s dream,
a canvas to paint your lines on!”
as I hold a stick of oil pastel
and attempt to capture
curves and hollows
and the way the shadows lengthen
in the afternoon sun.
The place is full
of kids on wheels: two and four,
trying it out alongside lifelong skaters
who are being so patient
because we’re all new here –
I mean, the paint on the mural’s
still wet and the rattle of a spray paint can
echoes through the concrete valleys.
It’s good to be here,
in this vision of community future
that Danielle had,
the place we watched grow from the ground
and get poured from spinning trucks.
Now everyone’s wheels turn
and we all fly:
the tiny dude in the spiked helmet,
the girl in the hijab,
the tall guy in vans –
and me with my sketchbook,
letting my spirits be lightened.