Brenna: Synesthetic Greetings

Looking out the window,

Brenna greets me as I drift up

And sighs out the beauty of falling rain

Her hands stir the air, gesturing, explaining

“It’s music,” she says,

“Not a metaphor. Music.”

All I hear

Is the pound and rush of raindrops

We bounce into the classroom,

A red package rustling in her pocket

Dutiful, we tackle our x’s and y’s

But, under the desk

She pours Skittles into my hand

Giving me all the red ones, just because

Taste the rainbow?

Taste friendship, squirting into my mouth

With the brightness of lemon and strawberry

Brenna, just Brenna

Skirts, braids, odd socks

Whispering as the teacher glares

I shake my head frantically, and she laughs at the sound,

Grins and wrinkles her nose

Each movement crackles, quick, unplanned

She hugs me

Her arms thrown across my shoulders, just to hear

The faint hum of my skin against hers

For me, the touch is silent

Warm

A kind of private gratitude

Passing between us