a spit pact by the cul-de-sac
of your old house
the yard was always perfect
but the shingles trembled
and the roof always felt like it might fall
you told me not to worry
that saliva is thicker than blood
and once the home is ruined
you'll still remember me
as one of the good girls
as one of the good girls

you wore acrylic nails that scratched the back of my neck
because you said it made you feel older
and your green poppy dress always blended
in with the backyard trees
while you smoked foreign substances
from an old lipstick case you carved out
and it was all so feminine
and all so beautiful
but I could never get high enough  
so I had to pretend that everything
felt as far away as climbing the skyscrapers in downtown

your laugh always bordered on cackling
and you promised that when our paths diverted
and they would
to remember
that hotel rooms should never feel like people
and that some men are strange
under different lighting
and to always close my eyes when crossing the street
and maybe I would survive
and I said
yes yes yes
I understand I say like I understood

when you got a scrape on your knee
you told me sometimes you wished
you could be as weightless
to never disrupt any floorboards
or understand the gravity
of heaviness
you look at me
and I'm envious of your curls
and I can tell by the way you straighten them
to the point of abuse
that you envy mine