Take Me There

I grew up dreaming amidst raindrops and fireworks, like the depressing pall of the weather and the beginning of a sparkly New Year. I read the dark in the syrupy breath of flickerflickerflickers in the attic and on the dining room table, and I drew childish hearts, borrowing fingertips of the dark and knowing I was alone that night while the peaceful roar of adults talking quaked below. I had forgotten and abandoned my favorite books and how could I? The dogs swam around and below, circling around the house like shark fins. We were on top of the world nonetheless, and I peeked down and crawled and tried to whisper some prayers here and there. I did not know what the sun was. La luna? I think I knew its language. But anyway the branches danced from side to side, then the roots swallowed too much water, and I held on with it because it needed me and somehow I was the lost girl that needed it too. The Lost Girl of the Nowhere, listening and watching and waiting for the sailors of La Luna to take me there. La Luna.