grown up

 now its subway station, glass reflection, hold-me-in-central-park love.  trains, and more trains, rushing and we are on the roof feeling the danger and the thrill.  the danger and the thrill of only days together and falling, headfirst into terrifying love.  

baby, this was years in the making.  baby, this was chance and luck and unbelievable coincidence all rolled into one.  and our mothers are so proud of how we’ve turned out, once infants in their adjacent wombs, kicking softly (you never stopped kicking, even in your sleep).  and they compared our skin colors, exchanged baby shower gifts, cried over the war and the way we grew up too fast.  and our fathers lived the war  and recorded it for posterity, mine leaving me and yours taking you in the face of all of your mother’s problems.  and here we are, both damaged by the choices our parents made.  we are both profoundly connected to that tiniest of Central American countries, ripped to shreds barely twenty years ago.  and it makes our lips and eyes meet, and our stomachs churn and our hands manifest the hunger in our hearts.  i feel you as a healer in my life.  that’s what i now know that i need.  i need you because we both want to grow and we won’t get in each other’s way. in fact, to grow, i feel like i need you with me.