Underwater

Summer melts all the memories and carries polaroids of the years before when there

were two of us and our little-girl days we lived breathless under the moon of a

flat neighborhood

Melted are the months when my mind was a movie montage in slow-motion,

words bubbled in thick ink like syrup,

music slow and soft, sixties swing and scratched records

Even the handwriting

wasn't mine

Some thoughts are stolen by the night, carried away on a crumbling bus,

stomped against its

faded carpet

Whispered underwater, under August, a hymn to bury there on an infinite loop of tar