life in the big city

we called ourselves painters: crushing dollar-store chalk in one hand & dripping cherry ice pops in the other. we used to think the sky was a convenience-store lotto ticket, & whoever grew the tallest would get to scratch out the clouds one day. you wanted the strawberry-milkshake mornings like warmed nectar on your tongue. i preferred the sun in a blueberry dress; swimming in the sky with grandma’s pearls strung on the stars.

you took a polaroid & caught glimpses of the horizon; mirrored in iced-glass skyscrapers, peeking out in a solo game of hide-and-seek on fifth avenue. i never asked it to, but the horizon found me. in dimmed family restaurant lights, when neon street signs cast little fluorescent butterflies into the air, even in rain puddles the size of potholes. (i didn’t know it then, but the sky was most beautiful reflected in your eyes.)

& so we played hopscotch, jumping into year after year after year until our arms branched out & our bruised knees dragged on the sidewalk.

i. the smell of soap & your mother’s sewing machine whirring you to sleep.

ii. the chinese take-out next door & the upstairs neighbors’ muffled football shows.

iii. being swallowed by musky italian suits, my father’s cufflinks glinting on your ears.

iv. deep-dish pizza fogging the air & our matching beanies.

v. lunch ladies spooning extra gravy on your tray, intercom static in the middle of class. vi. river rushing in my ears as you pointed to the bumps under your skin.

vii. hushed voices after dinner & the upstairs television drowning out my thoughts.

viii. the empty bus seat next to me, filled by a kid who i don’t recognize.

ix. the pictures i find tucked under your bedroom drawer.

x. the letter with no return address.

i am walking on pavement & it feels jumbled between my toes. you are standing next to me, arms pointing for the horizon, looking for a sunrise to paint the color of strawberry sorbet. i rise above the skyscrapers, & my younger self shouts, godzilla! fifth avenue is honking & swarming & we are sitting on empire state. big hearts in the big apple. your polaroid is out & i use the last of our allowance at the seven-eleven. together, we scratch the sky until it shines.