Remember those postcard summers,
Burnished by the sun?
Our feet suffering against
the heat of the yellowing grass?

Together we hopscotched,
tripping over our sneaker strings,
chasing the pavement

And I remember my feet,
peeking out from beneath frilled dresses
Hopped only for you.

And I remember how  I felt my chest clench
When the boy next door
With the hair we made fun of
Tied your shoes in double knots
And left mine uncoiled

Next summer we drew the longest hopscotch
And the boy next door had his arm around your waist
Like a dress.

My hands were tickling my pockets
For what use were they if not tangled with yours?

Do you remember those postcard summers
That weren’t so postcard at all?