(click for more text)
We start and stop, wheezing into position. On the
ground below us, we can barely see four teenage girls
squeezing into a purple car. The operator is shaking his
fist, telling them that they can only travel in couples.
They shrug, blonde and green long hairs below us in the
Your hand slips under the elastic of my skirt, fingering me.
Darting our eyes about, we see no one watching us. We cannot
see the couple in the blue swing, because we are right above
them. You whisper that they are doing the same thing. I want
to giggle at the pictures in my mind, but somehow I can't. I
have forgotten what color her skirt is.
Mine is a rich vermillion, the color of the temples in Japan
I want to see someday. Your hand holds swaths of the cotton,
bunching it in front of my waist. We swing slowly this time
and gently stop. Laughter (from the teenagers? the couple
below us?) reaches us.
I squeeze your hand, and then reach slowly lower.
We have done this before. You lean over and nuzzle my ear, travel to
my throat. My body constricts on its own, then
We let the memories of the times before take
us through the now.