I long to paint a picture of her with my words, to sketch in the fair skin (one too many times baked brown by the fiery kisses of the Sun) her laughter it reminds me of warm soda bubbling over the cup’s brim, it fizzes, larger than life, and I am happy or her voice. I have wrapped myself within the sympathy and comfort of her voice been wrist-slapped scalded by it heard the eye-rolling sighs in it witnessed the soulful animated melodies of it singing belting the belly-deep opera sounds Now it is my turn to be her rock to embrace her and say everything will be okay as she stands decked in the somber tones of black and crisp starched white nervously awaiting her interview she has been told they will ask her how to move Mount Fuji I want to tell her remember how we met the first day of math class, the first day of high school? I want to tell her that one day she will attend my wedding that I think she is one of the most beautiful, caring friends I am lucky to know I want to tell her purple is her color lets get Pinkberry chocolate is my favorite too movie days are the best being around you I can just be myself effortlessly That she is one of my closest friends. Instead I say, “Don’t worry, this interview will be a piece of cake.” As we walk towards the library bodies swinging through the revolving doors
For Kelly. P.S. I am not transferring.