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Apr 2018
When I'm driving out to Albany
My mind stirs.
"What would it be like,"
he chimes in contemplation,
" to spend a summer with her?"

So instead of Albany,
I'm driving down some bustling main street
of a town neither of us have heard of,
but I don't feel lost because I can feel her shoulder
brushing against mine.
She's poised, staring with glassy eyes out into an unknown town
with a grin painted stretched across her gentle face.
She's giddy now as her right hand meets the warm air outside.

When we finally park, it's some ****** just-of-luck spot
between a sunny corner and some person's rotting pick-up.
The sun, beaming wildly on us, is familiar now.
We're busily glancing about as we stroll down the sidewalks,
passing couples and families and an occasional man out for a smoke.
We enter shops galore and explore their depths of dumb pins, hats, posters, overpriced clothing and knick-knacks.
It's like those boring and cheesy indie movies where they're so conveniently laughing at the same thing and trying on hats regardless of where those hats may have been.
We're holding hands now, neither of us really knew when that happened, exactly, but it did, and no one complained.

Interlocked hands swaying back and forth, she leans her head against my shoulder and I feel warm inside.
I spot a small diner with chairs and tables positioned outside, and automatically knew we had to check it out.
After ordering, we sit there, waiting, and she goes on about this story of this one time her and her friends did this crazy thing back home, and I'm sitting there, smiling like a ******* ******, as I watch her gesture with excitement on the pressing details of the most intriguing events she's been on.
I'm just observing her, how the sun casts a golden halo around her, it's like I'm somewhere completely separate, just her and I.
Her laugh breaks me out of this trance, as I realize the waiter's standing right there waiting for me to move my **** arms so he can put my plate down. ****.

So we eat, and after paying, I check our time,and it's about 1:30. I stand up, stretch my arms, and wrap one around her. We walk around a bit, then gather ourselves to head to the car. As we hop in, I feel this urge of impulsivity bubble up inside of me like a spring.
"We're going to the beach, *******!" I declare without another word, and we're off. I let her play whatever song she wants, because anything sounds sweet when there's the tiny, slightly self conscious hum of her trying to keep along but not too loud, musing in the background.

We catch onto a song both of us know far too well, and again, it's like a **** ****** teenage indie movie. We're singing along with the windows down and the warm summer breeze breathing through the car. Everything around us is green with pure life, and the world feels as if everything is thriving and coexisting in harmony.

I don't feel as if I want to be anywhere else, even if sand gets stuck in my ******* shoes and I can't believe I have this killer sunburn.
I feel alive, and with her. It's so stupid and it's all been said before.

It's all but a dream, and I wake up in Albany.
So I'm really dumb and I get too in depth about things on my bucket list... rip
Andy Campbell Graham
Written by
Andy Campbell Graham  18/M/New York
(18/M/New York)   
261
 
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