there was something utterly charming
about the way you came to school
every morning at 7:30
wearing a lavendar scarf
from god-knows-where

you were eccentric, to say the least
stirring sugar into your coffee
with a ballpoint pen
and ignoring the margins of the paper
you used for last-minute assignments

but no one cared,
you were proud of you

because of you i learned
who terry pratchett is.
i started wearing ankle socks
because one day i saw you sitting
in an armchair, your legs crossed
and i thought,
"so this is adolesence"

god, you loved poetry too
scribbling microscopic sentences
onto a piece of paper you had folded
about six times into little squares
and i kind of miss how
you would go on about the beauty
of streetlights and pavement

you were a wild thing,
fickle with love
and oh-so argumentative;
you never lost a debate

even though we've grown apart
you burned a mark in my memory
one that i'll never forget,
endearingly quirky eliza