Butterfly Glue

I remember the girls of my summers

as if she were held together with butterfly glue,

the one who taught me that sandy beaches make salty kisses.

The one that ran like wild horses

in the hard packed sand

at the edge of the surf

until I staggered to a halt

heart fluttering against my chest like a scared caged bird

hands on my knees

trying not to fall all the way down

while she pounds to a graceful halt

in the summer light

The one running back to me 

on a lonely road 

to say I love you

The one at the party 

where we were wearing yellow paper hats 

celebrating famous heads

as the rain streaked the scant street lights

down her windows

and laughter poured from our souls

The one walking outside

along the fence

where the horses talk about

how the grass is greener

everywhere but here,

her smile striking glancing blows against my heart

The one whose life force thrummed against my being

holding me upright though I felt like

water running through her fingers

The one that met my eyes across the boardwalk and smiled

freezing me to that moment in time 

without ever speaking her name,

vanishing in the wash of bodies

as I stood rooted as an old oak.

I remember the girls of my summers,

memories held together with butterfly glue

memories as sharp as that look

she used to spear me with

when I made bad jokes

As painful as her elbow in my ribs

when I spoke fluent stupid

As soft and quiet as that still moment together

sitting in the dusk on the damp spring ground,

shoulders touching, drawing the same sweet breath

I still can taste.