The summer was full
of wonder.
Many a bottle in we danced on the veranda
and many a drunken shoulder I cradled.
Little did I know, you were six cherry vodkas in
When I called your name.
And As my heavy  body sank to the bottom
I knew I hand sunk my teeth into something
That was already dead.
This is where i hear the sirens
And all I can see is the Picasso outline
Of your torso, flailing about, perhaps a hand
pointed in a gesture, incase they could not
Locate the colorful mess
Below aqua blues and cement white.
I may have been half dead
But as they pulled me out, the bikini strings
yellow and white tied placid
amongst intravenous liquids,
It could have simply been another day
In  summer of  grace.