7.18.05

when things get tough, we will eat

popsicles together.

orange sugar syrup dripping down our chins,

our hands,

our lips, that momentarily pause unkind words.

when we are old, you will remember me as this:

22, a mop of dark curls.

if ever I do not have you, I will

remember you as this:

smiling, stunning blue eyes, sticky hands, purple lips.