Before things got bad

Do any of us remember the first time we turned each other tender? Sun-warmed mud flats, bare feet pressing into the muck like wet, mushy kisses, one after another. Smears dried into nape hair, crusting over shins, bits spit from our smiling mouths. Do any of us remember believing we could feel this way forever? The cut of a clam shell not so bad, not with a gush of saltwater to clean it and beers to cheers and friends to bury you alive in this mire, this endless spill of golden-hour, this Temple of That Time. Do any of us remember how in love we all were, our hearts stuffed and sure? Little welts from whips of bull kelp, worn proudly like friendship bracelets, bodies sore from the sprinting and the spinning, the tackling and the deep-gut laughing. Melting into one another, filthy and bright and exquisite. Do any of us remember why we ever left that place?

Published in Superfroot Magazine, 2022, Issue 02: Nostalgia