Parade Poem

You and I, with locked fingers
parade though these tedious streets,
proudly announcing our plan to leave town.
We are loud as big-bellied opera singers.

Our hearts and heads swell like balloons;
the anticipation is intoxicating,
and just as we're feeling like royalty
grey clouds appear overhead and soak us.

We walk home with slouched shoulders,
wet hair stuck to my cheeks.
We keep our fingers locked, but
we bicker about forgetting the umbrella.