Hansel & Gretel.

Exercise in pound poetry number one.
Because not all poems have to be about romantic love or angst or powerful emotions.
So few people realize that friendship is a poetic thing, too.
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& in a city that's full of fast-paced cars and hurried partygoers, we're pop-up figures of ourselves, our figures silhouetted by the glare of streetlights, and our muted conversation lost in the unpredictable buzz of the cars at our side and the stereos in restaurants somewhere beyond us. You turn to me, and you're all crinkly smiles that reach your eyes, despite my constant teasing about the nonexistence of them, and your voice is all warm and reassuring in the midst of the impatient honks and sudden screeches heard on the roadside as you query,"Shouldn't you be going now?" I smile, and I'm all endless conversations and sudden bursts of laughter, and I say, "I can walk my way home." We cross the street-me bounding ahead, like a little girl, as usual and you tagging along like the brother figure you are. I look to the left--but in my constant prattling on about you and mangoes, I don't look to the right--"Dude, wait, a car," you say. "Watch out." I step back, smile and then, keep talking. When we finally cross the road--unscathed, surprisingly, I can almost hear our guardian angels sigh with relief. I give you a high-five, and it's not necessary for me to say, "Thanks, bro."