Cold Metal Kite

I can feel the cold metal links
hanging indifferently from my neck
leaves swim by me, the cold air bites me.
The sun sets dutifully and the cars fly incessantly
a gust catches the kite on my chain
my back arches as my neck tightens in pain
I thought this device would help me fly
I thought it was possible to fly.

The gravel dust eats my palms
the thick crust of the earth is calm
as I slide heavily on it's skin
my eyelids up but nothing is sinking in
The clouds in my head have clouded my vision
no wisdom, concision, just deep incision

a rag doll in the sticky fingers of a child
a balloon caught in the door of a honeymooner's car
If I had hands I would grab for a hold
dig my fingers into the dirt until they bleed.
But I can't.
I can only hope this mad drag is just a rough takeoff.