King of Mischief

I tell you,
That I have no idea
How to ride a bike.
I have always been too scared
To fall, when there’s no one
To catch me.
No childhood scars on my skin
To mark any form of childhood mischief
I don’t like èré pá

You laugh,
And a week later,
You’re holding a bike — your sister’s
You see the worried look
In my eyes
And smile and say —
You’ll catch me if I fall
Will you catch me
Now that I’m falling-
In love with you?

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