We facetiously fling sarcastic insults,
violently, into the ever growing chain that is, on recent occasion,
an atypical rarity of our friendship-
it is these moments I cherish
the most.

Qué floja, chica, ¿por qué eres tan rara?
Si queremos, podemos tener nuestras conversaciones
completemente bilingüe.
No, I think qué flojo(a) will suffice.

Everyday as one reads
and the other makes continued feeble attempts to crack a subpar joke,
there are the daily commonalities:
Laughter, an echoing chorus of “Dude, you suck”, and even more
sarcastic insults.

For eight years, and for eight years more beyond eternity,
she will always be special
as I will always be weird.
We will laugh, we will fight,
but we will forever be:
Qué flojos