by Emma C., 15
I want to call your name
the noise ricocheting sharply like a shot around the narrow walls
and fly down an alleyway filled with light to meet you
midnight-blue skirt pleats billowing like petals, breeze caressing my skin
I want to secretly slip my hand in yours for a fleeting moment
as we bob along, buoyed by an effervescent zephyr
separating and coming back together, weaving like singing swallows
across the gentle cobblestone waves
the rosy hint of morning sun on your lips
and the fresh scent of summer in your hair
I want to succumb to the pull of promise
and prowl the bustling shopping streets of Ginza at lunch break
burning up with the thrill of doing the forbidden
and the giddy excitement of being free
I want to run and run and keep running forever
in a sobbing sky
the gray mist blooming over emerald rice paddies
splashing in puddles and feeling the wet, sinking, soaking chill
and watching you fling the shaking droplets from your limp, hanging hair
I want to laugh like there’s no tomorrow
the air squeezing out of my lungs in gleeful bursts
as we try, and fail, to snag a plushie from the claw machine for the sixteenth time
and walk away with empty hands, light wallets, and brimming hearts
I want to lean against you on the subway ride home
reaching up to tightly clasp the oscillating handles
and not quite being tall enough, but that’s okay
I want to press a soft kiss to your cheek
as the sky dims around us
holding a cup of bubble tea in one hand and
the faded smell of leather and eraser shavings in the other
I want to feel the world grind to a halt
hearing the melodic chime and the rush of crisp, biting night air as the doors open
letting in a constellation of serendipity
idyllic, infectious, intoxicating, igneous, ichorous
I want to lie on a velvet carpet of viridity
watching the festival glow like an ember of hope
a village, a tradition, a home coming alive
tucked into the crook of two silent, listening mountains
seeing “大” branded into the sleeping valley with apoplectic torches
and the fireflies perform their sacred dance
rising up, up, up into the satin curtain of darkness without a care in the world
and vanishing as soon as their light begins to shine
I want to discover more
in you
and in me
than we ever thought possible
cradling the strawberry moon in our hands
holding the orphic fire in our souls
Summit, New Jersey
Bridge Ink 