I've met you late in life, way past
the back-to-school Septembers
the no-credit-for-SMS tragedies
the I'll-never-love-again heartburns,
my friend, my watermelon friend,
my late-summer miracle, yes, way past
all that we have met, and yet
and yet you carry
the child I was on your shoulders
every time you call me "sister"
every time you march beside me
every time you force me into
taking care
of myself.
yes, my friend
my watermelon friend,
my late-summer uprising,
thank you for showing me
that this child has still time
to make friends,
and with these friends then craft
a world which works better
than the one they grew into