Childhood

Too often when I was younger,

I would lose my best friend and cousin

Juliet

when I closed my eyes, and for a moment

lived in the other half of my world.

She was always discoverable,

and in the same place too:

nestled among the unrelatable

adult conversations.

I always envied her childlike wonder

invested in big foreign things,

and when my own eye skipped over something

I frowned to know Juliet picked it up, and,

skipping it like a stone,

never failed like I failed

to try.

I think Juliet was always ready to

grow up in a way I never was.

Though I was envious,

I mostly loved her

in a way I didn’t love myself.

Too late did I realize that

in order to be a part

of adult conversations,

the only thing a child has to do

is be present.