Friday Hush by Lori Yamamoto

main street dusk folds friday breathes on our sneakers silence between us too soft to name out loud corner store lights buzz like fireflies caught in glass we point at cases but never decide tape deck heartbeats press play, press pause, rewind love mixtape ribbons curl holding feelings we can’t spell each song a secret passed hand to hand like candy plastic beads spin clacking the sidewalk rhythm rainbow sticker sky too bright for grown-up eyes saturday whispers cartoon light on our knees sleepover giggles braided into night neon scrunchies tie up the ends of our hair secret crush drifts through the static of radio pogs spin and clink small coins of pretend war tv glow hums our whole world on a screen roller rink lights spin slow like a snow globe dream scratched disk sings on skipping but still in tune lunchbox note tucked bread crust and “see you soon” that was our young a hush we keep breathing