smooth against my neck,

and I feel the fire race through

to my toes. My body awake,

my back straight.

It’s one of the first times

I realize that my stomach

isn’t folding over my shorts as much.

She curls her arms up

into the air, flexing her muscles.

I am Elysium. The world is at my feet!

And there you are, her voice deep and silly,

a strong, mighty hunter!

Later, under the glow-in-the-dark stars,

when everything is quiet at last,

I unroll my bag

on the floor.

Lisa whispers,

Good night, Ari,

I’m glad you’re here.

She points at her ceiling.

We’re like those stars,

floating through the galaxy.

You’re like the brother

I never knew I had.

Her words fold around me.

Brother.

Like a brother, a best friend.

I smile,

but I feel like it’s

more than that.

I find the biggest star

in the center of the ceiling sky,

stare at it for a long time.

I want to be more

like two planets

in orbit together.

I want to tell her this,

but by the time

I find the courage,

she’s already asleep,

so instead I whisper,

Good night,

coil in my sleeping bag

next to her bed,

watch the glow fade

from distant plastic stars.

A Different Kind of Morning

Lisa’s mom has put out cereal boxes

and sits in the garden,

talking on her phone,

a book resting in her lap.

Lisa makes me scrambled eggs

with cheese without asking.

Gretchen just texted me.

Lisa smiles. We’re gonna meet her

sometime this summer.

I think about Gretchen and Lisa.

I think about how

everything seems like a new chance.

My mother comes

shortly after we eat.

Her moccasins and work pants are absent,

her tank top and paint-drenched

canvas shirt

missing.

She wears some kind of business suit,

gray over a white shirt, but still

with her silvery necklace.

I don’t recognize the way she looks in it.

She hugs everyone, asks me standard

Did you? questions that all parents ask.

Did you have a good time?

Did you brush your teeth?

Did you get any sleep?

Did you keep to your diet?

Did you thank Lisa’s mom?

I try to anchor myself to the next time

I get to see Lisa.

We hug, agree on soon,

and drive off toward the city.

Across the Golden Gate

The Golden Gate Bridge is enormous.

Its towers rise sentinel red

over the headlands,

into deep fog.

I just need to take care of some business

over the next week or so.

My mother tries to sound upbeat, for my sake.

I think of my father,

that he must have a plan,

that they are going to work it out.

After all, this isn’t the first time

they’ve been so mad at each other.

Maybe he’ll even be home

watching old shows,

like we always do.