Driveway Goodnight Kiss

We grew up shortly after
having been captured
by grown-ups and
placed, posed or poked
into Polaroid pictures and
Kodak slide carousels.

Trying to get your attention
I would shoot lit sparklers
with my old third grade
Christmas morning bow and arrow set
up at your across-the-street
childhood bedroom window
attempting to string a
yo-yo string tight rope
from your house
or heart to mine.

As we aged and evolved
you tried to find your
tail or identity
in a thistly part of the
Hundred Acre Wood
I searched for immortality
or something like it
in Oz and Neverland.

Pouring out all of your faded
schoolgirl Valentines
where you'd scawled
with my name in red crayon
above some wobbly Xs and Os
out of my under-the-bed
childhood shoe box treasure chest
onto my parents' kitchen table,

and using a condensation-coated
pitcher of purple Kool-Aid
as a crystal ball allowing me to see
into the future and whether or not
I'd ever actually become your
ten years later,
end-of-the-night,
driveway goodnight kiss.