I get caught in the details.

In the quick flick of a crooked smile.

In the smile that doesn’t quite reach the eyes.

In the eyes that darken over the course of a tense moment.

In a gaze held too long. 

Both mine and theirs.

I am caught.

Within the shift from warmth to curdled.




I remember two sets of knees, kid fuzzy

Jammed against each other, jostling

And how the jug of water wedged between my feet,

Was somehow warmer than my skin.


I remember my sister’s giggle as she snuck snacks

Her fresh oversized front teeth gripping her bottom lip

Trying to muffle her own glee

As my dad drove my mom’s dad’s pickup, shifting jerkily.


My sister and me, in flip down side seats,

Knees to knees

Swaying sideways, in harmony

Our movements tethered to my dad’s feet.


And I remember watching the women ride cruisers along the beach

In leopard-print bikinis, 

Their bodies lean except for their bellies

Their crunchy chest skin gleaming.

And the men, passed out face down,

Their backs as carpeted as their fronts

Seemed otherworldly

Washed up, indecently.

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