I don’t know how to change a tire,

but I could recite the words of Twilight

to you when I make you watch it with me.

I couldn’t make it across the state line

to your house without a GPS, but I know

that I can play a round of Mario Kart

in the time it takes for you to get to my dorm.

I’ll be crossing the finish line on Rainbow Road

as you send me a message that you’re waiting

for me downstairs. The quadradic formula

is a jumble of alphabet soup in my noggin

and fuck if I know what it’s used for,

but I can fold construction paper into a tulip,

or a rose, or a lavender sprig. The hours of being

confused by YouTube tutorials and all the hot glue

burns on my fingertips were worth it when I saw

the way your face lit up when I gave them to your mom

for her birthday last April. You’ll have to explain

the rules of football, baseball, and hockey to me

a million times in our lifetimes, but ask me

how to start a fire using only sticks, lint, and a lighter

and I’ll get it done. I can’t always tell what you’re thinking

about, but when you pull me closer to you in your sleep,

I can only hope that it’s me in your dream,

and that seems like enough.