Youth, gone.

memories of a mostly forgotten summer

spent the night on a loveseat with a dog
while a boy I love slept upstairs
in a room that had the scent of childhood we shared
in another upstairs, dark softened by a lava lamp and
the steady breathing of an older brother in the next room

got rid of everything I drank in the garden alongside the house
fell onto a broken window in the yard next door, got rid of all my tears
walked down to the train tracks to fill the emptiness
with smoke and a song as we lay on the gravel, looking up

we’re all over this night now that summer is here
riding our bikes down streets of green and gold
black pavement damp with puddles to spin our tires through
the sand is cold as we sneak to the shore
admire the stars from forbidden waters where our bodies
are taken over by the rhythm of the moon

another night has our feet on the boardwalk, almost touching
the tide as we half-listen to each other’s words
entranced by the golden street light on black waves as we sit
trying to catch up, trying
to stay still

© Kate Wavering