Root Beer Memories
I.
South Haven. You wore a yellow sundress and a birth-control patch that was peeling along the edges, collecting lint. In your hair, I smelled our afternoon of sex lift into air.
II.
The white beaches of Key Biscayne. Frank and a man named Saturday built an empire of sand. Did you know this is where they filmed the “The Thong Song” video?
III.
“Oh, you know me. I’m a romantic. Give me a chance to swoon for a summer and I’ll take it, even it means brooding for a winter. What I’m trying to say is, no, I don’t care that you’re moving to Newfoundland in September. I mean, we’ll still keep in touch, right?”
IV.
Saturday sold us some acid that he allegedly scored from an upscale Icelandic prostitute. The best in the world, he said. “The prostitute or the acid?” Frank squinted, swallowing his dose. In the distance, a small boy was trying to ride his swimming dog like a dolphin. We must have sat there for 30 minutes or so, watching him. Frank got up suddenly and kicked the sand and fell flat on his ass, laughing hysterically. Saturday took my hand. Drugs are toys! hehehehe! Drugs are toooooys!
V.
A man and a woman
are one.
A man and a woman and a root beer
are one.
VI.
At dusk, we left for the ice cream parlor. Your yellow dress got caught on the chain-link of our hotel’s gate. You gasped briefly and then instantly regained composure, dutifully tearing off the hanging 6 inches of fabric. You resumed the holding of my hand and marched onward, your left thigh glistening in the mauving light of South Haven.
VII.
“I mean, even if you never speak to me again after this summer, I’ll still always cherish the time we’ve spent together. These last few weeks have been magical, really. And you know, you’ve seemed be enjoying yourself too. You finally got to try that thing you’ve always wanted to try. You know, with the butt beads.”
VIII.
Saturday finds a tiny New Testament Bible with Psalms and Proverbs in Frank’s backpack. He flips to a random page. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” What?!
IX.
Among twenty dark trees
the only moving thing
was the effervescence of the root beer.
X.
Morning in South Haven. Her yellow dress stained with the blood running from her face. She’s coming apart, I thought. The longer she stays with me here, the more she comes apart, physically.
XI.
“Really? No, I don’t think it’s weird at all! I mean, sexuality is a spectrum, you know. People talk like you must be either this or that, but I think it all depends! I agree, he’s very handsome. A blind woman could see that! Are you, um, going to talk to him again or anything?”
XII.
Saturday made a sand angel and then sat up, staring at the ocean. I think it means that the world is nothing but language!
XIII.
The ocean is moving.
The rootbeer must be bubbling.
The word was made flesh!
<3