Do you remember slipquick swimming against the current?
I do, the eddies at the edge of the dock pulling at my wrists
And minnows nibbling at our ankles.
The air sits heavy on the river. Heat lightning flashes
On the other bank, where purple clouds build and build.
I can reach the rock in the channel. You can reach
The beach beyond, and the distance between stretches.
Time is funny, it folds and buckles, and when I sit here it feels the same.
It’s not the same lightning, but doesn’t it look it?
I’m not the same person, but don’t I miss it?