the truth is that id never match him.
moving on like lightening
down the block.
I remember that feeling of giggling
and nervousness finding itself
down in the center of me.
And my face would be snatched
back by muscles-
i couldn’t stop smiling.
We’d reached the end of our walk home-
the top of the block.
And as tradition called for. . .
we’d race for the front door.
pushing weight, loosing air, laughing,
hoping to, at some point, defy gravity.
And sometimes i’d look to see where
usually pretend to look at the time
“hot damn!” he’d erupt.
“i gotta go!”
bags and all
leavin’ me feelin’ all kinds of ways- mostly mad.
and the truth is that i could never match him,
movin on a whole another speed.