It was a sticky summer day                                 (sweltering)

Annie Lennox belted,   “Nooooooo
                                                                                love yous ”     
 her words fell with the melody,

c    a       
   r     c                   e  d
                 k     l                                through broken speakers

We played that song on loop for a month except when


time.                    froze.                       briefly.

My best friend        (Theresa)             flew through the air

                           s           o           a         r         e        d        actually,

while wearing her ill-fitting flower print bikini        (that she loved despite all the adjusting)

she ffffffffffffaaaaaaaaaadeeeeeed to a shadow
                                                                                                ((((eclipsing))) the sun   

                                           throwing her hands into the air,
s               p           r           e         a         d        i         n         g              her fingers wide

k-i-c-k-i-n-g          her legs like a frog 

            launching herself above the water

Only to startle, to break form when her brother shouts:


and she falls faster than a cannon ball 

                     becoming fragments of   an                EXPLOSION!            in the water.

Jumping from the tool shed’s roof
           into a shallow pool
                           without supervsion
                                                               and  reaching for the wire that should not be above us

pretending to be like the pro-wrestlers our older siblings forced us to watch pummel one                    another  on television

                                                   We just wanted to fly.   
                           It’s every kid’s dream.   
                It was our dream.   
We were every kid.

that’s how we occupied the last summer of our friendship

only we didn’t know it until it was too late and the pieces of us

                                c                           a 

                                                                             t                        t

And years later we face the hard truth— that we all can’t be high-flyers

We can’t all be Superfly Jimmy Snuka.