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Jo-jo
You taught me the meaning of Sinterklaas
When Boka died you baked me Speculaas
You are my sister beyond the pool
In the water, you are a Butterfly
What will I do without you in college
I’ll call you Jojo
You are my best friend, Jojo
I got to be in your family for Sinterklaas
Nineteen, yet you’re a junior in college
Your hair a deep brown, like speculaas
Your back roped with muscle- a distinct butterfly
“Please push me in the pool”
My heart will be an empty pool
Without you to laugh with, Jojo
You will migrate, a butterfly
And who will I have for Sinterklaas
Unable to taste the spice in speculaas
You will not be with me in college
I won’t be able to comfort you about college
Or watch your tears merge with the cerulean pool
Give you warmth like toasty speculaas
Or tower over you, small Jojo
Though I have just entered my cocoon, you, long since a butterfly
Show me how to be a butterfly
So proudly, I can march off to college
And wistfully sing songs of Sinterklaas
Together, though I am in a far off pool
I will still race you, Jojo
Passion warm and hot cinnamon- speculaas
Once back together, we will dust the molds for speculaas
Free him from the wooden block, a caramelized butterfly
We will break him in two, dear Jojo
And over him, tell tales of college
And return once more to our pool
To survive hell week and reward ourselves with Sinterklaas
Pour away from the pool towards songs of Sinterklaas, unto college
Looking back only on the taste of fresh speculaas and the vision of a butterfly, dear Jojo.
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This poem is dedicated to my caretaker, the person who pulls me through rough four hour practices and stuffs me into a compression suit. It’s a swimmer thing, I suppose.