"when you and i are lying in bed, you know you don't seem so tall"
amazing the way that people carry so much living breathing history. remember that time.....? yes. no? well i'll tell you. it's wonderful the way you take along everyone you've met or known. the way they tip into you ear and, later, out of your mouth like the dirty pearls in mussel shells. mussel shells and i've already thought of her. her family "in the hills"...the way we swam in dirty rivers and the divers with the second black skin that stood on the bank and sweated and pried and gave us lavender pearls. we thanked them, and they leered with yellowed teeth and whiskey breath. i stood up stupid, naive, and fiery, silently daring them. we left the car doors open and laid in the grass listening to fleetwood mac. dusk and i was grumbling about riding home in a wet suit, and you threw me a warm sheet from the trunk. the purple air so close, and my blue skin. i rode home through the hills with the edge of the sheet trailing, caught in the car door. windows down and cicadas humming. across the fields, the fireflies lit up as sudden and unexpected as black currents