Are we grown ups yet?

I sit with a stuffed monkey; he's furry, funky, likes bananas and has terribly long arms.

We talk about building sandcastles you and I, goldfish swimming backwards and we never did know each other's last names.

I climbed a tree once with a boy who rode motorcycles, we kissed and then said we could cross that off our list, then we climbed down and never spoke again.

Some nights I hug a baby doll close to me, her sickly sweet smell reminding me of her plastic parts as I forget about my organic insides.

I had a fear once that I wouldn't laugh anymore if I married you, so I broke your heart and ran miles away. I don't regret it.

I like make-believe, climbing rocks, jumping waves, running and screaming.

On the Fourth of July one year I ran around the gazebo with you. We ran so fast we almost flew, then we chased each other down the street. I didn't want you to kiss me. A week later, I let you in. A week after that we ignored each other like we were 10. We were 22.

You said hop on my handlebars so I did. We raced down the hill, I said, "this is trust," you let go of your hands and said, "no, this is." Then we crashed, rolled over on pavement, blood and dust.

I tap my fingers on screens to connect to something greater, I share my smile on dating apps, I text anyone who responds. Sometimes it's nice to just talk to a stranger. It's nice to have no history and no future.

I still sneak chocolate from the fridge like I did when I was 4. Back then I left the wrappers in the couch, now I bury them in the trash.

I've been known to spill my water glass out at dinner, leave crumbs on my placemat, forget to clean up my plate, let others do the cleaning up.

I prefer dancing and giggles, holding a warm body close and making up lyrics to songs.

There are days I don't laugh, and days I don't play and they are happening more often now.

I always said I just want somebody to swing from the trees, climb walls and surrender ego with.

Pushing past the should be's, could be's and are's, I'm perfectly clear that I am wildly refreshing in my outlook and present-ness.

I slap my leg at Pixar movies, hand lingers in sour gummy bag, I pull out a friend, bite it's head off and then say, "sorry." Since I find it all amusing.

Yesterday you said you were essentially 5,
And I said I was 5 too.

It's easier to be friends that way,
And I just want to play.

Add 20 years and I wonder, am I a grown up yet?
I hardly think anyone is, it's false pretense
and I don't like to lie.