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august
Sometimes I forget the air at the beach stays salty even when the sun goes down. Even in the dark, I feel like getting sand stuck between my toes. It’s pitch black crossing the highway. No headlights or passing cars. No one felt like driving up the coast tonight, I guess. I can hear the crash of the waves from here, calling my name. They’ve missed me after a long time away, after jumping city lines for years trying to run far enough away from the memory of this place. The lights at the club blaze in the distance, but I can’t go there yet. I kick my shoes off…
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outdoor pool
She’d never been high before, but she was sure this is what it felt like. The street lights glittered brighter, the air was cool and sharp on her skin, and her skin buzzed with the promise of his touch. And, of course, from the cheap beer racing through her bloodstream for the first time. Anything was possible tonight. “Do you want to go swimming?” he asked. “Yes.” Anything with you. She hoped she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt. She knew he had a pool at home, he was one of those people with a backyard oasis designed for a hundred pool parties. Not that she ever made it…
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real or not real?
Today I turned down all the lights, shut the buzzing air conditioning unit off, laid on the white duvet I once found comforting and safe. I used to love the empty promises and quiet monotony of hotel rooms: beige walls and confusing light switches, dry soap bars, and thin carpet. On the inside of the blackout curtains, I could have no idea where in the world I was. It was once my favorite feeling. Long days, short nights, and seeing you in the dimly lit hotel bar, waiting for me. I never knew where it’d be, or how often. The mystery made it fun. I’d come back from a panel…