Just in that moment I questioned how many drink bottles I’ve opened with my teeth. Don’t ask me why or I’ll give some nonchalant shrug and you’ll feel stupid for opening your mouth in the first place.
I’m wearing a three hundred dollar coat I have no business owning with cherry Docs and your scarf. I’m almost in the same outfit as when my gypsy family took me to Garden of the Gods and you told me “you’re so pretty” in the antique mall where I blushed. The ceiling fans were as wide as the horizon is far, vertigo. I walked with my hand shading my face to avoid my peripherals betraying me.
We ended up with so many collections.
An album on someone’s phone with all the weirdest faces we could find. We spent so many hours laughing that day. I think we all cried, too.
A stack of polaroids you glued into a Hello Kitty scrap book.
A bank of memories I can’t forget.
I have my own collections, too.
Flick open the camera roll on my iPhone and scroll up, I dare you. Every photo you’ve ever sent is stored there and well cherished, backed up on my MacBook but not the cloud; fuck the cloud.
There’s a secret album, too. It’s locked with a passcode only you could guess. It’s where the truth of our humanity lives.
Did you know I roll the perfect cigarette every time? Even with months or years in between.
Did you know I secretly hate it?
I’m thinking about getting a tan this summer. I haven’t tanned since I was a golden child spending months that felt like decades on the beach. A child of the ocean but I could really do without sand.
I think I want to come home blonde and bronze. Come home to a winter cold like no cold I have known. Bring you sunshine where snow blankets the yard. I’d like to imagine I’d bring home smiles and letters. A new accent. A new kind of life and laughter.
What it is to live and love at all.
It’s still technically winter at the end of august but today the sun blesses me with its gentle warmth in Melbourne’s city centre. It’s nearly time to get to work and then it’ll be nearly time to catch a train to my sisters place.
It’s nearly time to grow old and what bothers me about that is wondering whether I’ll do it with you,