Soft white soles in adidas sliders slapping hot pavement. Waves lapping the blonde shore. Ice cream melting in sticky hands. What is April without stirring up water or air? What is April without the wind roughing up the tendrils of your salty hair? Come in from the surf. Come and sit beside me in the sun. The sun which bleaches our hair gold. The sun which hugs us even though the air is cold. You’re everything I imagined. You’re everything I was told. The scent of the earth and the Pacific deep. The seasons alchemise with each passing week. Change is the only constant and change can be sweet. Our faces burning from an excess of internal heat. In private rooms, in sunken chairs and beds unmade. Forehead to forehead— our fevers commune. Take care of me. One day April will feel lightyears away. Take care of me so perhaps I might brave the winter and stay.
