Picture This

Picture this.
We’re lying down
at the beach
our backs on the sand
our fingers intertwined.
You’re complaining about the sand
and I’m complaining about your complaining
and I flick sand at you
and you pretend to be angry
for a minute
We’re giggling
and flicking sand
and holding hands
and understanding
that feeling people talk about
and the world stops
the sun steps out
giving us privacy.
The moon peeks in
through the dusky sky
freckled with stars
like a summer night
when it’s not dark yet
but it’s dark enough
that you can see the stars
you know?

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