weird boy

holidays

He invites me on holiday
to Barcelona.

The sun is stronger than at school,
or back home where it always rains,
and out in the Barcelona sunshine,
we listen to the song.

Weird boy is a little too afraid
to touch my hand, or to kiss me,
and sometimes even to look at me,
but I love his chubby cheeks
when they go all red and funny.

His parents are always nice
and even let us stay in the same room
and don't question anything
so when we stay up together,
him sleepless, me sleepless,
talking about everything
and nothing,
they don't ask.

On our last day in Barcelona,
together in the Parc Güell,
he finally looks at me
and whispers something special
in my ear.

I breathe and he breathes, too,
and then his mouth is on mine,
and our breaths are in sync
and his eyes are shut
and he's beautiful
in the Barcelonan light.

When we get back home
I can't stop thinking about it
about him
about us:
and his parents say yes,
I can stay
for the holiday
with him.

Weird boy doesn't kiss me again
but he holds my hand
when we go places
in the holidays
and I wish a lot
that they'll never end.