You and me
on the back porch
blowing bubbles from
our Kool-Aid-stained lips
as the summer sun
melted our skin
You and me
through the third grade
disaster
of glasses
and all the other
end-of-our-world
days
When your cat died and
we solemnly had its funeral
I held your hand
while you tried to be a man
and not cry
And through our dirt days
of bikes and basketball
sharing twin scabs on our knees
proud of how tough
we were
When your other friends
said No Girls Allowed
and you convinced them
I was
the greatest cops-and-robbers
player the world had ever seen
and whispered the rules
in my ear
You were that kind of friend
to me
and I to you
wishing on stars
when we dreamed of being famous
And us
pinky promising
to never ever ever
grow up
What happened?
I wonder as I remember when you
said good-bye
the tail lights of your beat-up truck
fading in the dusk
I haven't written for so long
all my words are
locked away
somewhere in my heart
I hope you know you have a part of it
I'm afraid to call you
afraid that your deep mustache voice
won't remember
and that life has come too far between
five thousand miles to be
exact
I guess we did grow up
after all
But some days I think
about a skinny girl and a green-eyed boy
and pinky promises
and wonder what
we have become
or if our story isn't over
yet.