Status: something short to keep creative

Poison Oak


We're sitting together in the park, the sun is shining, birds are singing, and I'm trying not to blink my eyes too much from the burn of the radiant light. She's got her sunglasses on, thin arms are showing through from her faded blouse, the echo of a coffee stain lining the fabric. My hands are itching, fingers twitching, heart leaping as I contemplate reaching out to take her small hand up in my fingers, hoping they aren't too rough, too soft, too small, too big for her. I watch from the corner of my eye, vision blurring slightly from the harsh light, trying not to notice the way parents skirt around us, some fleck of fear echoing within their eyes. Fear of the unknown, maybe. Something they don't understand. But sitting there with her, the sun fading to black to blacker than black, understanding seems to lose all of its importance. She turns to me, lip caught in between her teeth.

"Do you remember how that felt, just being a kid, when the world was wrapped in gold?"

I turn from her and look down, not knowing if I could ever tell her that yes, yes I do, whenever I'm with you.