Where have all the monkey bars gone: an ode to skinned knees

Styptic, sterile playgrounds haunt the parks. Plastic wrapped joy shoots for slides,  pulverized rubber turf, the lonely fat kid trying to smash their unused body through the maze. We are raising a generation of children afraid to bleed. As if fear has ever stopped blood.

I have sweat condensing in the small of my back from riding my bicycle. Two moms,  distracted by their children's needs almost drove me off the road today. See, children and the fear of blood.