tell me, do you still stare the setting sun in its burning eye?
do you pencil in the lines outside the lines
and run your hands through your hair in the bushes-
your cobwebbed hair. do you still cut it short,
and welcome the bugs that would nest in its spikes?
i suppose if you spend your time like you used to,
lying in the grass and watering the weeds
it is inevitable -
that you would be the intersection of land and life
again, and that you would shake with laughter at my metaphor.
tell me, do you still eat so little that you grow as the branches do?
spindled and broken and invincible?
as children we did not have a word for you and now our words are
hush hushed because they scare people, though they don't scare you.
do you still paint the skin under your eyes with your sister's lipstick because
you can't sit still and it's halloween?
i suppose we were young but i still picture you that way -
waxily red-eyed and grinning with the tube in your hand.
and it's halloween years later now -
i apply lipstick in the mirror,
seized with the desire to take it to my eyes
to leave long red marks of how i miss you
ma chère amie,
j'ai peur de ne pas te comprendre. mais un jour nous traverserons le pont et tu chanteras, et chanteras,
et je comprendrai tous. oh, dear friend
do you still smile at the spiders
and dance in the sun?
about a friend who i lost touch with a long time ago :)
my dear friend,
i'm scared i will not understand you.
but one day we will cross the bridge and you will sing, and sing,
and i will understand everything.