My Bubble

We flip on the trampoline and wince as our fragile flesh
scrapes the net.
We stare at screens
try to improve our eyesight
by gazing deep into the pixelated world
of our obsession.
We observe the effect we have on
our parents sanity.
We s t  r  e   t   c    h our ligaments into noodles
so we can bend into shapes that flex
twist
tumble
adapt
now is the time for self improvement.

The squeak of the pantry door is
constant
We pad the footpath
drumming our footprints into the asphalt
in an effort to burn
calories
and nervous energy.

The skin on my computer keys
is worn thin
conversations flow from the screen
and stop abruptly
as Google Classroom
pings
We go to dissect flowers
while converting number bases
and completing vocabulary lists.

The sound of my flute
trickles
through the sleepy neighbourhood
while bears lean against the glass
and nod along.