I wish I could go back to that time, scoop up breathless moments and return with them like candy to adult land. Back then the world was better. Not perfect, but not as sick as it is now. Air was fresher. People were more fun. As we sat on the hill behind the freeway, under the cover of the trees, I knew I would never completely forget the ending of that chapter. But even as it was happening the details tried to pull away against my will: The exact smell of the summer grass, the precise degree of cold hardness from the earth beneath my bluejeans. Whether the movements of your body over mine were good enough to make me completely forget the bugs and twigs seeking purchase in my hair and toes.
I remember the awkwardness of not wanting me to go or to make room for me to stay. Vaguely, your skin.Your hard, lean body. The cologne I would never smell again.The eerie knowledge that someday I wouldn’t care. Your man’s body with a boy’s needs. Fucking like actors outside while my car full of future waited down the way. Hoping for one more wild ride down the middle of my rib cage to the explosion in my belly but too sad to get that high. I miss you but I miss that heat more. Wondering as you shoved down your jeans if you were thinking about missing me or just my cunt. Half not caring because I needed it filled.
And all because a waitress took your number on a cocktail napkin. Can anyone today imagine that? A number on a cocktail napkin.