Thanks for the Memory

As I walked down the shore, I came upon this barefoot lady, fit and tanned, no more than nineteen, drinking pina colada in her violet swimswear. She was laughing with the girls she was with, who they were, I cannot remember. All there was was where black hair bobbing as she threw her head back.

She smelled like apricots, that was sure. That scent I knew too often. I lay down with that scent, showered with that scent, made love to that scent one too many times. It lingers on the skin, it becomes tangy to the touch.

She was a happy girl, that is for sure. Sensual and sensuous at the same time, she’d greet me with a casual nod everyday, or that playful banter, or that flirty gazing. Once upon a time, we were running down the sandy beach, her hat falling to the sand, recycling itself to the endless processes of nature.

And when that ring slid down her finger and as she kissed my pale lips, it was that moment that would always make a solitary tear drop down on my show. More than the day, she lay at the pavement, cold and blue, the gorgeous red oozing out of her, or of myself squatting, words gibberish, mind melting, looking at the ring on a dead hand, contrasting with the noise of sirens and questioning.

Snap back to the now, and the nineteen year old was in front of me, asking if her friends could borrow a chair.

I nodded her off, barely grazing one second on each other’s eyes. But that barely one second was more than enough to thank her for everything.

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This is the 100 Songs Project, a 100-day writing challenge based on AFI’s 100 Years…100 Songs. Every day, I write a short poem, prose piece, or play based on, reacting to, rejecting, accepting, or doing something related to one of the songs in the top 100 list.

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