A Dream Poem
The trailer rocks violently
As the little girl enters
“Don’t worry,” she says.
“This is normal.”
. . . she is your friend, and she
Came from nowhere and returned the same.
No proper goodbye. The car drove away
While you were inside, looking
For her gift
. . . do you believe you’ll see her
Again? Don’t. It’s easier to despair.
It hurts less.
“You’re too young to be cynical,”
They said. They were wrong.
Fifteen is the right age,
That in-between, liminal space. Childhood
Closes, and adulthood hasn’t opened,
And you don’t want it to. That door
Leads to jobs and mortgages
And friends who disappear in the night.
Love has to be earned, and it doesn’t
Embrace you back.
. . . if she smiles,
she might be lying.
The kids in the corner laugh at you,
Not with; the pure love a fantasy
Never to return.