I used to scamper up the rocks
as though my feet had eyes,
The New York City outcrops in the parks providing
Moonscapes, alpine ridges, pyramids, and pueblos.
No classrooms, homework,
Angry parents, bossy older brothers —
Only me, a chubby tomboy, doing somersaults—
On moss and leaf mulch at the foothills
Of my pristine mountains.
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