to Gusha

when we were very young
we dreamed of strong men
with broadswords
and sub atomic rifles named Betsy
who would wait patiently
for us to sail across the ocean
in gigantic pie dishes
(we would eat the pie first, of course
with the obligatory chocolate custard fight)
propelled by rockets
and rescue them
from the aliens
and their dragons who were only misguided
and just needed a loving princess
to make them give up kidnapping knights
and settle down
to crochet doilies and use their fire
to light the lanterns on our spaceship

you were the one who rescued the knight
with his scars and his competence
who saw you and knew that here was
someone who didn’t need to be rescued
but wanted it

I was the one who curled up
beside the dragon—who was a prince sometimes
and exchanged quips about life
and books and words
as quick as each other
constantly testing that we were not weak enough
to be scared away

it’s been too long since we played together
but it speaks volumes
that you found your wounded warrior
and ran away
to a little cottage in the woods
where you could polish guns
and knit

while I still chase my dragon
alone