Wednesday, January 05, 2011

Pinch Me, Was I Dreaming?

Tonight her lips were chapped again. At dinner she cried until I slathered them with cream. I rubbed the raw skin slowly, mesmerized by how quickly it went from sun kissed to wind burnt.
Just yesterday I was smoothing suntan lotion on the very same spot.
Already our time in the sun seems like just a pleasant dream, a deep freeze hallucination. Our sand cities, like our footprints, have been washed away.
Pinch me please. Or rather don't. I'd rather close my eyes a little longer to feel the kiss of the sun on my face, the soft sand between my toes, and be seduced by the riot of blues all around me all over again.


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