Still Like Caffy

STILL LIKE CAFFY
August 24, 2006

You like the blue crayons
like Caffy and don’t
know how to answer questions
even simple ones
like what’s your name
and where do you live
because you’re afraid that,
like everything else,
you’ll get it wrong.

You like warm clothes like Caffy;
hot chocolate that blisters
your summer-acquainted tongue,
and blankets pulled up
to the chin and over your ears.
You like cumulus clouds
like Caffy and horses
that bend around tracks
and creak with saddles
and jingle with shiny silver bits.
Also, black corduroy pants,
red cannons, and sparkling spokes.

And you still cringe when you’re
yelled at and cower when you’re
accused. You still pick at your
nails like Caffy until they click
and peel so you can rip them
off with your teeth, and you like
to climb trees and jump ropes
and run. Nothing’s changed.
You’re still like Caffy.