Amnesia

Eyes wide,
palms open,
weighed down by
summer swimsuits,
we dream of catching our first snowflake
in a land that we don’t have to call
home –
home where we lay awake on creaking beds
trapped between worn-out walls,
swatting mosquitoes
that loom over our piggy banks –
break, break, break
break
away –
we rejoice over
our winning lottery ticket –
to freedom, we say
as we pack our suitcases,
kiss the hot & humid
goodbye
for a wonderland
where we dance on white glitter,
toss snowballs to each other,
stuff our suitcases with mementos
that’ll probably never see the light,
but that’s okay –
the sun sets early here. We giggle
as we put ourselves to bed at 8,
but we aren’t used to
the hard bed,
paper-thin blankets or
sleeping with socks. Suddenly
we’re cold, tired, bitter,
but,
as always,
the snow falls,
and we finally learn that
we’re only snowmen in a globe.