To the memory of you

One night I had a dream
I remembered how you used to lift me up in the air
and rotate me on the streets
I remembered how you would throw yourself in the freezing-cold snow
and have people staring at you
because you had no fear
and you taught me that
you said "ever since you've been with me, you've started to see yourself"
maybe you were my mirror
and maybe I didn't want to look at myself
in a room without you.

But I had to remember how to spin time again
Get out of the house, even with my eyes closed
if the people and the light were too much for me to see
and walk, just walk
for miles and miles
and slowly try to elongate, to feel how my body starts to feel like a body again
out in the world
and how it is the same size as other people's
when I burst into them on the sidewalks
and how, somehow, I'm not alone
and not strange
and not a different species
that crawls, and doesn't know how to walk naturally
tall and straight among other people.
It's true I don't  have love
and it's true I still don't talk much
or move too many miles on feet, but that's why there are subways
and buses
for people like me.
That's me
a person not so much like a person
that crawls out of the bed, sheds her worm squishy skin
pretends to be a human in the daylight
and sometimes remembers how it felt to be looked at
in the mirror of you
again.
I keep you in my heart
you make me feel like a person
even though you're long gone, and the snow is still late this year
I will make an angel when it finally shows up
to the memory of you.