my manic and I.

this is what makes us.

the beach was unimpressed by either of us. boats chained to its harbor. yachts we’d always dreamed about stretching out across. fuck I want to be rich, you always said. that made two of us. the sky refusing to change its shade from striking gray. neither of us minded. shoes off creeping the
beach towards the cafe siri told us would be standing, lonely, waiting for us. sand is nature’s cheapest pedicure. amanda bynes taught me that. nevertheless it gets everywhere and anywhere and sticks to your clothes like a foreign disease. god it’s in my new bikini. yes, I mind it. not now, maybe.
not now I don’t mind it when it’s the only stretch of land between us for the first time. the infinities we wanted to live in the palm of our hand. lana del rey playing loudly on my dying iphone because the batteries fucking suck. us
singing this is what makes us girls. appropriately, seeing as this was the first night we’ve ever met and we were already sneaking away from our parents. our first adventure tucked into a crabs shell. there are more to come. cheers
to this. let’s make friends with all of the whores. i laugh. you laugh. vodka in your princess cup. i should’ve known you would have brought it. red lipstick. black night. and then the sky sets on fire and you have to go.  you have to go. home. you have to go home. and that’s okay because I know we’ll
have our Isle of Palms on some beach in Greece one day. make our pedestals on the top of waterfalls in New York. I promise. it’s all gonna happen, it’s all gonna happen.

(28)

you say you don’t like dark blue
but one day we’ll be swimming
with skin exposed in a lake
somewhere, the water rippling
across your waist will mimic that
of the sky and you’ll find-
you don’t mind it 

you’re an impossible
balance and sometimes I imagine
you in the form of ginger
cleansing my palate 
                        drops
                        running
                 down
               down
             down 
potentially               out
               drowning
the taste of the past so I can extol
the moments I have now with you.

there are no photographs,
no recollections of dancing in the streets
or laughing our way through
big cities or small postcard towns,

no memory of you and I sliding
into a coffee booth or of our forks,
the way they clinked in tandem
as we devoured our breakfast:
pancakes and eggs(you liked
yours sunny side up) 

no videotape of us singing
to pop music that quit being 
played on the radio years ago,

and I don’t recall us hugging,
ever or especially
for the first 
time,

that’s probably because it hasn’t
occurred.. yet,

it still drives me insane 
and it’s a little sad but
it also reminds
me of all the things
we still have to do
for the first time