With thanks to Free Verse Revolution
On these sunny days lying together, I pretend I am hammocked in the curls of her hair, swaying in a hurricane. I can smell everything – her gum, her shampoo, her scented sanitary towel which is why I earn a firm flick on the nose when I take the petting too far below the belt. I can feel the grass and the soil, the moss and the discarded burger wrappers. I can taste the burned metal from the small pile of spoons nearby, and the sour char of melted plastic and aerosols.
She rolls on top of me, her hip bones grinding against mine. With a cat grin, she bites my chin and plucks a chest hair out of my flesh. I smile and ignore the sudden pain, but she can read my eyes better than plain English, and my face has never been the most challenging of books. I wrap my arms around her back and softly sing to her – a silly melody she told me used to put her to sleep as a child.
I watch the clouds drifting by, and the sun glinting golden off the tiny hairs on her exposed shoulders. The first wave is starting to hit me now, and I worry that in my new gelatinous form she is going to sink inside me. But I just need to breathe. Don’t let on that you are struggling. I see her pupils pulsing like an alien heart. She is flying too… and yet the smile remains.
jimmi campkin 