play
by Nina

You child
          in your bigadult shirt,
its creases and its form.
I see your earlobes, you know.
I see the area on the back of your neck
          where the Panda Room lady cut your hair.
Your hands poke through those shirtsleeves now,
          yellow fabric stretches to cover your back and shoulders.
But your skin is still Johnson and Johnson
          and your hair is still Baby Don’t Cry.

I have an idea for us,
          Us children playing grownup:
Let’s go
          To the beach
                    On a warm day.
And I can carry the blowup ball,
And you can carry the picnic basket
          (but of course we’ll switch)
And legs intertwined,
          we can sit in the sand and forget about the grownups.

We children can play childhood.

Because I can see the pink, soft babyflesh of your cheeks
          And I want to kiss those cheeks,
And hold your hand
          (even though we still believe in cooties).
Because this is good.
Because this is intimacy before we know what intimacy means.
Because this is who we are supposed to be.