the ice cream truck was at least
a mile ahead of the house.
you, jogging, i, piggyback,
three minutes later, catching it
when you let me off your shoulders
i must have defied gravity
my feet hit the ground
but my head hasn’t been
pulled down yet
still hundreds of miles
from the end of the ground
and start-of-the-sky.
how two free floaters
such as ourselves found each other
i’ll never know. i hope
the universe never tells either.
doesn’t it make you want to
jump ship
and start over, losing
your religion
of einstein or whoever
invented e equals
mc squared anyways?
abandon physics,
the hippies say
wear my flowers instead.
Olivia Umstead
Olivia Rose is the 2020 recipient of the Academy of American Poets Jean Burden Poetry Prize. She has over twenty five publications, including poems featured in Querencia Press, Beyond Words Literary Magazine, Tofu Ink Arts Press, and Gypsophila. Her work has been praised and honored by the California Writers Club, the San Mateo County Poet Laureate and the San Mateo County Literary Arts Department. Olivia holds a degree in Creative Writing and is currently pursuing a juris doctor in Los Angeles. All of her published work is featured on @oliviarosethewriter on Instagram and highlights are featured on www.oliviaumstead.com
