For Jim(my)

i picture you at fourteen
gangly and awkward
bottlebottomed glasses
curly close-cut locks
riding your bike across the bridge
wearing the same three outfits
all summer long
diving into the swimming pool
down the block
and playing right along
with our nine-
and eleven-year-old games

i was in love.
it didn’t matter that you were my cousin
almost six years older
and lived across the country.
you were nice to me
made me feel at home
in that strange and cavernous house
where Grandpa and Grandma
ordered KFC
and watched TV all day
instead of fixing decent food
or paying attention to us.

you rode across the
highway bicycle bridge
and entertained us every day
and carried me on the back
of your dirt bike
on our camping trip
and talked and talked and talked
like no one else in the family would.

i still remember those words
those cyclical wheels
that sent my mind spinning
and the smile you carried
through all that was dark,
the fourteen-year-old boy
who redefined family
in my little girl eyes.