Long days, back when the sun was benevolent,
my sister and I lie on our stomachs
reading Agatha Christie mysteries.
We can’t imagine being
anything but
seventeen
and slender,
but just in case
to ward off aging
& thickening,
we drink Tab, eat salads,
smear Bain de Soleil
over each other’s backs.
The days are endless.
The days are exactly the same.
We lie in our fenced back yard,
watching watermelon sky falls into grass,
desperate for something to happen.
Neither of us knew yet how sunlight
can disappear, how we might spend
years, decades, trying to find a place
that would hold us, would say
Now you can turn your backs.
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