Skinny Dipping

High school nights, it seems.

Exhibit A:

We run wild and quiet,

kicking sand up behind us.

The park closed three hours ago,

but we break this rule like we're

passing notes in class.

Hushed giggles:

we're fourteen again,

abandoning shoes and shorts

on the beach, playing chicken

with the weather--it's still

too cold for any sane adult person,

but I double-dog-dared her,

so here we are.

Quiet, until we're waist-deep,

then a shriek.

B:

Warm beers in hand, we float,

look at the sky, gossip. Talk

about boys and broken hearts.

We've spent a lifetime

in these waters, pacts made

over stale Rainiers and under

these stars, burning brighter

the further from land we go.

C:

Imagination run wild, the lake

is still, flowing around us like silk:

a fish tail, a ball gown. The mansions,

ghostly, shroud us on all sides,

and we imagine we're rich.

Cinderella mermaids

smoking a bowl in the garden

while the others dance inside.

Princes are such a bore.

She said Bill Gates

once paid her

ten thousand dollars

for party favors,

and I ooh and ahh,

imagining what it would be like.

Extravagance. Plenty.

D:

Bliss--

sunburnt, the smell of aloe,

mother's hands soothing

fragile skin. Falling asleep

with the ocean rushing

within your calves.