A watercolor film reel.
            That is how Olive is to me,
Dancing in the dandelions,
Grinning chicklet white teeth.
Olive smells like summer-
Like salt and a wild sea;
A mane of seashell secrets,
And eyes that mirror the gleam.

The gleam of self-realization,
The leaping fires in your dreams,
But in such a supple pastel haze,
That quietly, sings and sways—

Like hot cotton in your ears
Behind your eyes
And round your throat,
But the tune is gentle and smells of the ocean-
Olive’s own anecdote.

And I remember, at the end, she put the sea into a jar-
Sand, colored glass, and rippling waves of ocean water.
It felt like a tribute; a memory-
Like death.
When olive left the coast line,
And her glass ocean world-
Glinting crystals in the sunlight-
On the cat walk,
Still sat.

Kisses laughed too loudly
that summer afternoon
we walked the weathered planks
to and fro, to and fro
those so short shorts calling out
an invitation to potential paramours
eyeing our free-wheeling parade;
our rattle wagon welcoming guests
seeing them home, announced by
the creaking twin gates swinging wide
at the end of the bumpy ride.

Chicklet couldn’t remember
something now easily forgotten
and we cackled, a barnyard
full of happy hens,
to watch those too-full eyes
twist with concentration,
twist with consternation while those
lush lips refused to acquiesce, refused
the words to prove our teasing wrong.

She ain’t dumb drawled a sudden Southern Kisses
momma done dropped her on her head as a baby
and Chicklet smiled a fragile crease,
shy and kinda wavy but lost as it was to the
slap, slap, slap of a dusky mosquito massacre.

Chicken and potatoes set steaming on the table
I’d keep those days just as they were
if I were only able.

As midnight smiled we swam naked
beneath a too-full moon
in whose pale light we shone
laughed and splashed in golden sea
and soothing tumbled foam.

It was love that made us three and
a promise of better days, adrift,
surrounding us; we’re children at play.
silly, silly grins and declarations
set to fly on summer winds,
in cloudless skies,
of bonds that keep
and devotion that never dies.

I marveled at his big, chicklet teeth.
They were huge, white, s t a r i n g a t m e.
I smoothed my tongue over them and fell in love.
The kind of love that snaps, crackles, and pops all in an instant.
That dizzied me like a kaleidoscope.
Like my head was under my feet.
He was older but I was wiser.
Wise enough to know better.
But then I forgot.
It was a round-peg in a square-hole or whatever they call it but that's what it was.
Anything sticks together if you have enough glue.
Our dreams were the same! We were changing the world.
Or so we thought.
He said things like, "tomorrow" and "everyday" and "always."
I said, "yes" and "forever" and "only."
Secretly I shuddered.
Big teeth and big heart and big dreams but small us.
It ended in September.
On a Sunday.
And I wonder now where he's gone.