You always went along
with my ideas
and my desire to be near
water
and away
from people.

A desire that remains
even now
that you're gone.

We were so young
and it seemed to me
that the thin gravel trails
stretched out across the hot marshes
the same way
our futures did.

I never had to explain it,
not to you.

You would hop in my car
with a smile
as I'd tell you my plan
to watch the sunset
from wetlands.

To walk around
swamps
in muggy
New Jersey summer
was probably the last thing
anyone wanted.
But there we were
on a bridge,
talking about things
that we didn't know
wouldn't matter
ever.

I think we both just felt
lost
and found comfort
getting lost
in vaguely familiar places.

There are so many
conversations
I can't remember.

But I remember
watching the sun
go down
and running
down those gravel trails
screaming,
laughing,
because mosquitos
eating us alive
was the only concern
worth having.

The only thing
that would matter,
ever.