
Summer pools in the skatepark
Saturday afternoon
Sticky and bitter
Hawthorn flowers, or lime
The fragrance of rapeseed on the air
Mixes with motorcycles,
who, agitated as wasps
Stress along the busy road,
heavy the breeze with the smell of burned gasoline
The concrete glares,
Children swoop in from ramps
My son among them
Searching out speed
The hot air when rushed through
Is a small relief
This could be California
The blue sea inviting and cold
Lies lazily while
Shirtless skaters perform on repeat
Under the gunfight sun
Pause in mid-air, laugh off each bad landing
I come here to fly
Though my own wheels feel stubborn and unfamiliar
I fell last summer,
My board and I refuse to work together
We have an awkward relationship
Cautious to be injured twice
But the lines become more fluid, daring
And within one meeting, we’re talking again
Though trust takes a long time to rebuild
And for now I stay low on the ramps
In search of encouragement
There’s a ‘Thrasher’ t-shirt in the window
Worth chancing another fall for
About the Creator
Elsa Michaela | @surfthought
When you hear a song
One that stops you in your tracks
That seems spoken from your own mind
Do you listen and listen again?
Follow its streams until a tide,
Inside you
Rushes to fill in the small hollow parts
…Yeah, me too
INSTA - @surfthought
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