I have a friend.
She prefers geometry
And I prefer algebra,
But we get along just fine.
Sometimes she goes to talk
To my advisor
And I go to talk to hers.
We criss cross in the halls.
She can make her arms flow
Like they’re butterfly wings.
She reminds me of a flower.
Sometimes she remembers things
That happened in the past
And gets nervous.
Her hands shake.
But it’s okay.
I let her squeeze my hand numb,
Until her jitters go away.
She walks on her tip toes
And the bottoms of her
Feet are worn in.
Her hair is four times
Thicker than mine (we’ve measured),
And her waist is two sizes smaller,
But we understand each other.
The crevices of her that
Other people do not reach,
I have made a home in.
She let me dance with her, once,
In the dark in her house.
We flowed to the rhythm of
The classical music playing on
The radio on her nightstand.
One time in English class
I described myself as bubbly,
But I think it suits her better.
