167: when summer comes

when it's summer time, we are going to cut through hillsides,
cross miles of stony bridges, flip over rocks,
discover the hideouts of tiny insects and crabs,
until a polaroid sunset,
next to a tall cliff we never intended to climb back.

when it gets dark, i know i will get cold and scared,
because i'm mostly made of indecision and nervousness that collide with my pride.
but you probably would have had my hand in yours since the morning,
and then for an entire week without letting go.
so no, i won't be worried.

every afternoon, you're going to examine and ask me about my tiny fingers,
no longer wrapped in warm winter's mittens.
compare them to yours, and my god,
how can they write words that make your skin float like feathers?
just line up our finger prints.
my fears will melts like ice along with the concrete into the night sky.

and you'll ask me about my tiny teeth too, hidden behind stiff lips.
these belong to me, i'll never hesitate to press them against yours.
but you'll still ask me, how can i whisper words and breathe them through the cracks of my teeth?
how can i still sing every night, when each time i open my mouth, my throat rips,
my tongue bleeds,
my jaw dislocates?

my answer will always be "i don't mind" in a voice like a pebble,
because that's the truth and i'll repeat it forever
when i'm chasing you in the summer time.