summers.
hot pink feather boas - glitter on eyelids
purple butterflies in our hair.
dreaming of the beach.
pina coladas, virgin because we're
not old enough
yet.
we had to hide in the bathroom with
the candles while the tornado flew
above us.
i'll never forget the scent of your home
and how it always followed you.
the juicy couture that stays
on your scarf forever.
that will forever be the scent of
sisterhood.
she had a boyfriend in the summer of '07.
tall, tan, brown eyes, brown hair.
all i knew was that he played soccer
and his middle name was scott.
he never spoke.
The Dark Knight at the drive-in.
i always wanted to press my back against
a guy's chest in the bed of a cherry red
chevy avalanche.
never paid attention to the movie, just
focused on how dazzling the stars were
and my orange MP3 player.
sweet sixteens at the roller-rink.
crying in the rain, she got her first car
topped with a red bow.
moments alone in the passenger seat.
sleepovers.
fireflies and poker-faces, driving on ice.
face masks and homemade pico de gallo.
ghost shows.
winters at the mall.
flared jeans, messy buns, brown
leather jackets and Birkenstock Bostons.
Hollister and Aeropostale was all the rage and all we've ever known.
St. Petersburg, spring break.
Bed Head manipulator in our hair.
hand-me-down bikinis, belly-button rings,
and overpriced mint chocolate chip ice cream.
in that motel, across the IHOP,
during the thunderstorm,
was the first time I saw Titanic,
manifesting with Barbie dolls.
doing our makeup in the car.
hot pink bikini tops under white tank tops,
eating last night's teriyaki chicken sub.
walks on the pier.
