cookie dough 

my favorite thing
about being a girl was cookie dough. 
a brief worship of impatience.
swallowing the stars before they come
full into focus. chocolate chips
in the dazzled night. 
once, in the middle of the summer 
i was having a sleepover & we were
all soft & strange. girls in a backyard
where the frogs were singing. we passed 
a plastic bowl of dough. we had made 
with no intention to bake. 
pockets of sugar from poor mixing.
the egg, yolk-sweet & thick. 
i held spoonfuls of dough in my mouth 
& let it dissolve. my teeth like 
church bells. the lights from my friend's house
glowed & cast our shadows on the earth.
crickets like shrunken car alarms.
sometimes back then summer felt like
it could keep us forever. like maybe
we could exist on nothing but befores. 
before we turn sixteen. before we 
drive a rocket ship. before
the dough is shaped into flying saucers.
before all of that it is just our mouths.
mismatched metal spoons. 
the big wooden one reserved for
the sleepover host. the plum dark. we stayed up 
until even the moon's eyes were heavy. fell asleep
with the windows open. 
sugar still on our tongues.