I call you "dulzura"

She asked me what I was wondering
and I told her about the time you smashed snow in my face
and when you pretended to be the voice for my
splintered thumb.
I told her about your grandmother's sister's cousin--
the one in movies.
And I told her about red lipstick that she's too young to wear.
I told her about your brown shoes, the two chairs on your porch,
and your father's walk.
I told her where we buried your goldfish.
And about the first time you kissed me
and how it tasted like pinnapples and cavities.
I told her how your aunt pinches you when you fall asleep in church.
And she asked me how I could wonder all these things at once,
and I told her about the way your eyelashes blink a
million times a day and how I never get tired of watching them.