Letters to Those Boys

I never met you. You don't even know

my name.

It's Amy, by the way.

(Sol Vista, March 2011)

You were the snowboarder, I was the skier.

We rode a lift--- I was beside you

you were beside two others.

Your name was Ian

it said so on your board.

I was scared to look at you. If I moved my head

even the slightest, you might've been weirded out.

She asked you how your life was; you said "fine."

She asked you what would make it better.

I heard her tone, I knew what she wanted you to say.

I was incredibly envious.

You didn't skip a beat, with "Better grades."

You said you weren't doing great in French.

I would've helped you.

I was that short, curly-haired girl with the funky accent---

when you tried to dump the snow from your board

on the skiers beneath us, I was

the she who suggested next time you should

take a "wonk" of snow in your hands

and aim, instead of hoping you could tilt your board perfectly.

My voice sounded weird

next to yours, but you had a nice laugh.

And, the moment I gathered enough courage

to turn towards you, if only for a moment

I noticed you had a cute nose.

I wish I'd been able to see your eyes.

I never saw you again.

Even though I was there for four days

and I looked constantly,

oh fate. Dreadful fate.

I dreamed about you---- I still do.

I imagine you with curly blonde hair,

In ninth grade, maybe tenth now---

popular, a jock. With lots of girls.

you won't remember me.

So, Ian

I am Amy Ems.

I fell in love with a stranger.

You.

And, if by some blessed destiny

we meet again

I hope it'll spark your memory

when I say

"What a wonky day it's been!"