looking around me, 19 second stop at a red light and already the large, bearded man with the scar on his cheekbone is grumbling, scratching at his bushy mustache and drooping Yankees hat, so faded it could almost be a B for the red sox

there's a young woman, ***** blonde hair cascading down her back, almost gracefully; seemingly too small for the rumbling white pickup truck she sat in, scratched and almost a tint of blue from this angle; one hand at the wheel, one tickling the feet of a giggling newborn at her side, for a second i wondered who the father was-

and over there, a skinny Hispanic boy by the side of the road, walking with threadbare sandals flapping against the hard cement, there's a hopeless look in his eyes-

an old man with a 5-inch long grey beard, almost touching the steering wheel; he's either Asian or he's squinting into the sun, can't really tell from here- wrinkles lining his worn face

a strong-***** Japanese woman, hair in a tight bun driving a Ferrari

a red-haired bespectacled boy, pale as chalk, his face covered with freckles (or was it acne?); couldn't have been older than 17; he looked like a Robert or a Charles, definitely not a Samuel

in front of me, a red Chevy truck with a license plate LUVANN, i wonder if Ann is still with him- i crane my head upwards trying to see the man, all i can glimpse is a blue-and-white bandana-

i wonder who all these people are,
what are their hopes and dreams, do they like ******* jacks? banana splits?
where are they going?
who will miss them when they're gone, or will anyone-

then the light turns green and in a puff of smoke,
like a blur-

they're gone.

I'm so afraid you'll be the kind of guy to say "I love you" in the exact right way at the exact right time when the candles are fizzing in their own puddles, never glancing at that piece of tantalizingly soft pale skin right above my slightly sagging purple velvet dress, opening all the doors and paying for all our insanely expensive dinners at Olive Garden-

the kind of guy that will never keep me waiting for more than three minutes-

or say that no, you'd rather have cheese pizza because you secretly don't like pepperoni even though you know I love it, and I don't know what to say because

                    that's the kind of guy I've always wanted and it would be silly to think that I would love if once,
                    just once,
                                        you would be the kind of guy that forgot my birthday until the last minute and gave me his sock as a gift.

i'm just sitting here sippin' salt water
'cause the taste of tears reminds me of you

and the smell of crushed pine cones was so strong it made the whole world feel sharper, like glass

dull colored leaves crunched under our feet
                          I imagined them all to be Cinderellas who had been
                          just for a moment, colorful&bright;&perfect;

                                                    then I only stepped on rocks and you laughed at me and called me silly.

                                                    I loved it though, the way you threw your head back and put your hands on your knees, your eyes crinkled

your laugh echoed off the mountains it was so loud and
                                  happy it made me want to sing,

all the birds cried out in surprise and flew away over our heads
                          so many of them they covered the sky for a moment
                                                    just the downy blanket of soft crow's wings, the silence seemed so loud after that

                          you took my hand, it was so big it covered all of mine and I felt the calluses and strength of it until your hand was so warm I pulled away;

you looked sad so I twisted around you and took your other hand.

sometimes it's like trying to remember a long-forgotten dream,                                                     trying to remember these times;






other times I can hold a                                                     pine cone,
                                                                              an inky black crow feather,



                                                                              and I can hear your laugh still echoing in my head.

She'll hide her tears behind that picture-perfect mask of sunshine-smiles
                                  and she'll dance like an angel and talk to you like she loves you the moment she sees you
                 and she'll meet a man who falls in love with her dainty peals of laughter
                                                                    he calls her his princess.

but sometimes, when she closes her eyes and kisses him back as he clutches her body with *****
                                  gasping intents, she envies him because he can feel so much, and she feels like

                                                                    a beautiful, colorful shell
                                                   empty on the inside; ***** and brown and gross.

                 She wants to scream and run away in her bare feet
                                                   and feel the mud splash up those pale legs
                 wants to sing off-key and snort when she laughs
                                                   and trip over dresses and she wants to cry,


she knows it's crazy, but she wants to cry.

                                  She wants to meet a man who loves her for her
                 and not for that perfect facade she hides behind so skillfully;
                                  but she blames herself, and yet that mask is glued too tight



and she smiles a little wider because that's all she can think of doing when her heart feels like it's about to break.

Either I'm Alice,
or I've been kicked into Wonderland;

                  because I'm falling down in a never-ending hole
                                    and I'm drowning in a pool of my own tears.

                  I hope I'm Alice though.

Because then at least I'd know
                                    that I'll be okay, in the end.

Take my hand, friend
just for a sec-
let's leave this ****** land of
SATs, PSATs, APs,
and college admission essays and guidance counselors
and homework and pop quizzes and exams and whatever else-

                                          behind.

Let's be two again.

Let's make Pringle-chip-duck faces
and grin with orange peel smiles-
I'll paint my nails yellow and we'll read Dr. Seuss with British accents
in the dimming light of the old
falling-down fort of pillows and blankets (that's almost too small for us)

Let's pretend
              Let's pretend
                            Let's pretend

That we've never seen the glowing screen of
televisions, computers, IPods,
that we haven't spent weeks wearing down our thumbs on text messages.
              Let's forget fights over boys that weren't even all that hot.

Let's sit in my yard and eat raw cookie dough behind my momma's back
And make too-sweet fresh lemonade, and blow dandelions
(into other neighbor's yards, of course)
Spray garden hoses at each other
and laugh and scream and giggle and make mud-pies.
Let's make twenty different secret handshakes,
Eat wild raspberries and hide sticky fingers
And pinky promise- again and again- BFFs forever.

Let's lose ourselves in the bliss of childhood
just one more time- please.

                            Just in case Peter Pan decides to visit.