untitled

two orange butterflies dancing in the air brought it all back to me—the sand on the sidewalk working its way into my flip-flop, the sharp illumination of tree leaves in spring light, the heat, coarse grass, low ceiling of a sky, and instantly I was 15 years old, high, terrified, walking down another nameless street in florida. these feelings turn inside my gut like a shame-soaked blade, a needle i swallowed years ago that pierces my gut every time i visit florida. it comes with the dry pine smell, carried on a warm gust: so gentle, but so mocking it feels like a slap in the face. low morning sun, teasing through blue-grey cloud cover is just menacing enough to bring me to my knees, to suffer the 6 inch drop and rebound of my heart. the sweet, delicious hint of chlorine on the cool breeze seduces like a diseased lover. eyes droop shut, acquiescing to the battle axe noonday sun, skin glistening with sweat and sunscreen, baking.