Best Friends
When did we meet?
When we were nothing but specks in the womb,
Desperate to grow and to be given these lives?
Or was it father beyond that?
Somewhere between God drawing the light out of darkness
And painting the honeysuckles yellow?
It seems as if I have known you forever.
I remember sitting out on humid nights,
On porches beaten down with age and sun and rain,
Talking about boys and who was cuter,
About how much you hated your dad,
About all the cool things we wanted to do before we died,
About how we were going to live forever.
We were closest of sisters then.
We’re older now.
We still sit and talk, connected by phone lines,
On nights where the air is thick and heavy and the stars seem to be closer,
But now we talk about classes and exams,
About foreign policy and presidential candidates,
About ex boyfriends and new potential heartbreakers.
The real world finally found us, stealing our magic.
But some things never change.
We’re still sisters of a sort,
Bonded before the formation of the cosmos,
Over inattentive fathers and kinky boyfriends
And we’ll always have the summers with their oppressive air
Still connected, despite the distance
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