Grace

I saw it in a video:

A weird eclipse light shines over Southern California in the mid-seventies. Among the ruinous detritus of the previous decade, beautiful feral children skate in dry swimming pools.

Don't look over your shoulder. Snarl cool defiance. Soar up over the pool's edge, twist, and whirl back down again. Display amazing feats of arbitrary skill. You are punk before your time.

Again up to the edge.

I think: the world holds its breath for you. Go!

But what you don't know (and won't discover for years) is that since you tumbled from your mother's womb you've been falling -- and won't stop.

This is what no one says.