I had a dream;

Not as important as racial equality.

We were 8.

And the sunny sunny brightness was caught

In my still-blonde eyelashes.

We’re at your grandparents house,

Eating mangoes and playing with

Family and siblings and sharing

All of the things we’ll do when we are

Old enough to even try.

We never went.

We never stayed.

We never.

Never.

Ever.

I said that it’d be okay to get

A boyfriend in the 8th grade

If I really really loved him.

You said you wanted to write.

And that you hated the popular

And that you secretly had mascara

That no one knew about.

I said that I was so excited

For 6th grade; and that my mom

Said that I could wear make-up

For the first time.

We planned to take our classes

Together.

And to do the monumental things

Of childhood;

Together.

Changes.

“Tell me your secret.”

(I’m clairvoyant;

I’m a lucid dreamer;

I have synesthesia

I love someone who

Doesn’t even love

Me back.)

Now.

We know.

In my dream I cried;

Because things will never

Be quite as sunny day;

Sunny DeLight

Perfect.

As they once were.