my mother tells me about her parents.
i interpret her penmanship through my screen.
her voice strokes my hair through my speaker, tenderly as her hands did when i was young.
they would do the dishes — she washed, he dried.
they would steal a kiss, she says.
the neighborhood kids loved him — they’d ask for him and he’d come play.
mom would cuddle with him — his breath steady that she matched.
i only want an anchor who’ll keep me steadfast in myself.
i only want a pilot who will lead me through my troubles.
i only want a kid at heart who loves to laugh and play.
i only want a sidekick who will help me make the bed.
i only want a teacher who will show me more of life.
i only want a hand to hold
a dinner date
i only want a cheek to kiss
a dance partner
i’ll keep looking.