and the fireside reveries
and the linguistic swing dances
and the California fairie balls
This is for those of you who shout
even when your voices are hoarse
from singing the praises of one another
and those accomplishments
those brilliant accomplishments
This is for the hands that grasp
the warmth of a million summers
like fireflies in the night sky
you wouldn't believe your eyes
without thinking that whoever made this:
She must be beautiful
To know beauty like your favorite freckle
or your favorite line in a song
if I could write you a love song
It would be because you asked
Would you memorize it by heart
and would you know that time
was kept on the fingers we laced together?
You gentle wildfires
You Jupiters in retrograde
You class acts knowing just how to act
like summer is just a word
but so is forever
and so is a moment
and so if it's all really transient
like they say
then why can't every moment mean forever?
You thunder bolts
You grease lightnings
stuffed into your grandma's favorite mason jars
holding small infinities like daylight
with the taste of smores on your lips
and strawberry fields
the color of cotton candy skies
Scream out to the oceans you came from
and thank them
because even if there are plenty
of fish in the sea,
remember that Venus was born there
to leave you the world in her oyster
You honest legends
You instrumental geniuses
The way you weave shared histories
and friendships into sleepovers
and football games
and road trips
and every window pane
you smudge your fingers up against
like artists in the dark:
Keep smudging
till every night looks like a Starry One.
-JC