Saturday, July 12, 2014

I want these days to live in my veins, to stay even when my skin is no longer tanned like someone from Venice Beach, even when I no longer smell sweet and bitter like the sun. 
I want to always feel what it felt like to hear the boys wild Indian screams as they longboarded down the parking garage, turning the sharp corners, hunched over, concentrated, shirts blowing in the wind of speed, laughing whooping beaming ALIVE meeting us at the bottom. 
I want to hold onto that drive coming back from the downtown, me for once in the passenger seat of my own van and we had all the windows down in spite of, or maybe because of, the rain, Polish Girl blaring, the tree lined curving road mingled with early evening fog, and all of us together understanding.
-written July 6th


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