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High school nights, it seems.

Exhibit A:

We run wild and quiet,
kicking sand up behind us.
The park closed three hours ago,
but we break this rule like we're
passing notes in class.

Hushed giggles:
we're fourteen again,
abandoning shoes and shorts
on the beach, playing chicken
with the weather--it's still
too cold for any sane adult person,
but I double-dog-dared her,
so here we are.

Quiet, until we're waist-deep,
then a shriek.

B:

Warm beers in hand, we float,
look at the sky, gossip. Talk
about boys and broken hearts.

We've spent a lifetime
in these waters, pacts made
over stale Rainiers and under
these stars, burning brighter
the further from land we go.

C:

Imagination run wild, the lake
is still, flowing around us like silk:
a fish tail, a ball gown. The mansions,
ghostly, shroud us on all sides,
and we imagine we're rich.
Cinderella mermaids
smoking a bowl in the garden
while the others dance inside.
Princes are such a bore.

She said Bill Gates
once paid her
ten thousand dollars
for party favors,
and I ooh and ahh,
imagining what it would be like.
Extravagance. Plenty.

D:

Bliss--

sunburnt, the smell of aloe,
mother's hands soothing
fragile skin. Falling asleep
with the ocean rushing
within your calves.