sixteen
weariness or confusion blurs my memory.
anticipation. escape.
with each new state that lay behind us, each stretch of highway traveled, the anticipation grew.
some time after midnight, hours after crossing the border, i remember seeing you dance in the sand. summer heat wrapping around us, and you were so innocent back then.
pile back in and no one caring that we're just a jumbled mess of limbs.
and we arrived, just before sunrise. i left, and you stayed.
sand on my skin; palm trees overhead; breeze coming through the open windows and playing with my hair.
something in the dashlights hypnotized me; something about music passing through decades to reach me.
and i that moment my youth left me.
i came back to you, changed.
5:52 p.m. - 2003-02-28
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