Hey Leonardo

Her laughter rings in my memory bringing me back to a time of innocence. We danced. Oh, how we danced. Her hard wood bedroom floors were not too harsh under ridiculous boots and wide denim that hung too low because we were too short. We had no concept of body dysmorphia or our media’s presentations of how we should look or how we should behave. We just were and it was absolutely liberating. We prospered with wide smiles and rosy cheeks lost in a land that could never exist as an adult.

We fell in love again and again and wrote poetry about our sorrows, begging anyone within earshot to give it a read and validate our budding talents. We grew and discovered our hidden artistic attributes and dreamed what the future could hold. We had the courage to throw ourselves to the wolves because we knew that in the end we’d always have each other for support. 

In our adventures we sometimes confused magic with logic, but they always resulted in our safe return to reality. We jousted with poison and used fallen sticks as divining rods. We walked away the untouchables, responding to far away whistles and the setting sun as nature’s cue to return home. 

In our youth we could handle lethal amounts of energy. We’d consume cases that would carry us into the early morning hours before we collapsed on a mattress that would have bruised the princess and the pea. We watched inappropriate movies to sate a gnawing curiosity much to the ire of our parents. We lived for each moment and did not dwell on past mistakes or misgivings. We loved the smell of grass, gasoline, and burning leaves. We were bonfires in the night.

We swooned over androgynous rockstars and watched cult classics. We learned how to lie. We strove to protect our individualism and break free of the clutches of our religious right parental figures. They used their protection as a shield and tried to block any unstable influence like cartoons that loved violence or demonic depictions on the big screen. We always found a way and when we didn’t we lied to cover for the other. No one suspected the innocent of treason.