How voluminous noons stood sideways 
to tell forests the hovercraft flies. 

I’ve lost track—never ran track,
despite Dave’s deepest aspirations.

We sure razored the boomerang though. 

Even wormer throws worth worship, 
whirls for near-perfect soccer circles, 
the finish a leap and a grab. 

It did not matter with what we were clad. 
We did not make the campus promotional video.

I can’t believe those days, the sun 
shone like some millennial molasses 
I had tasted for the first time. Have yet to taste. 

Were we that much giddy glitter
jumping over trees together? Endless 
furball floating over the ravine, 
the river? Help me recall. 

I throw boomerangs 
with my phone now— 
launch feelings from a freeing fist. 

Mid-flight we consider
which part was our favorite:

Lift, 
lunge, 
watch, snatch 

worlds returning, 
reverberating 
through recollected woods. 

Cameron Haramia is a California-born Hoosier, who heard a rumor that Indiana will house an MLB team with a mascot that is out of this world. Haramia’s poems have appeared in Construction Literary Magazine, TL;DR, Leopardskin & Limes, Rabid Oak, & elsewhere.