I should be doing laundry. Instead, you’re swinging into the sky above a river valley. Back and forth, a metronome back out over a steep decline. Back and forth on a song playing Hopscotch between my right and left ears. The damp sidewalk, one foot on pavement a seesaw melody. I’d be walking down one foot on the grass to a playground to swing in time with you, but I’m doing laundry instead.