We spent hours on our skateboards Hot days and cold nights Skinned knees bleed slightly; they drip lightly on the same asphalt that we glide over all afternoon Rubber wheels smack cracks in the sidewalk Wood scrapes concrete as you launch into the
air
if only for a moment Everyone comes down
Rosy from the sunshine T-Shirt stuck slightly to my sweating back I wheeled myself under the installed cedars, over littered leaves, around suburban corners A man in an orange vest held up his arms, beckoning mothers in their vans to stop for me while I skated by but I didn’t thank him I felt regret
In your room we fumbled awkwardly in the half-light Sunshine warmed us in slats through your dusty blinds Partially filled cups sat atop your dresser, full of water and red pop There was a buffalo springfield poster on your wall and I thought you were devastatingly cool We’re sixteen and we’re not in love but we love what we’re doing
I still remember your skin, it was olive dark and bruised all over, when I ran my fingers down your back white lines remained for a fleeting moment Short shorts and a long shirt, these memories are vivid I wonder where you are now – an actress I hear, which is funny because I never really thought you were any good I wonder if you still find the minutes to take your old skateboard, covered in dust and the film of time, out of whatever buried corner it inhabits
Back in your bedroom, my hand lingers next to yours as we sit close on your bed While you contemplate my lips, I contemplate yours I’m a little late for dinner