for me you’ll always be that skinny Noxzema-skinned teenager
sunbathing bikini-clad under a 1960s sky
the little girl chants “closer, closer, closer”
as we drive in unaware of the desperate levels of meaning
wonder if she’ll remember the day she got the little red plastic boat
oblivious fishermen talk drunk along the lakeshore
your disembodied laugh dances across water
breaking surface tension into strands of helpless light
the little boy clutches his yo-yo
says “I want to see the sparks”
© Catherine Jenkins, 2014
Peterborough Poets 