there are so many things I want to give to you
some with reason and some without. some not even mine to give.
I think it started when I saw you upset for the first time. I couldn’t give you comforting words, so I colored our favorite dinosaur, an Ultrasaurus. tall and awkward, just like you. you smiled and that was enough for me.
next was another coloring, a purple catfish. you just pierced your upper lip with angelbites, and we all joked about your resemblance to a catfish. you told me you didn’t have a favorite color, but we both liked purple, so it would do.
it grew beyond papers and crayons soon. I saw things and I just wanted to give them to you. I can’t explain it. my old yum-wok shirt with the funny saying about rice on the back? yours,
if it fits. my books about street art? take them, even if you don’t read them. my Johnny cupcakes pin with the panda eating a cupcake? I have one already, you can pin this one on whatever you want. even on the hoodie that that other girl gave you,
I don’t mind. my foreign movies, my electronica CDs, my hoodies that have no hope of fitting you. empty coloring books for you to color, coloring books full of pages I’ve colored for you, old paintings, new photos, haircuts, the prescriptions I stole,
even though you like smoking better. logos for your band that might not ever happen, trips to Dairy Queen, gauges I can get on discount at work. this note, the other notes, the doodles on my French notes. stories that aren’t as wild as yours,
but enough to make you laugh. excuses to hold my hand,
even though you don’t need any.