MEMORY HUNTERS

photo by Invitation To Inspiration

The Summer I Was Sixteen

The turquoise pool rose up to meet us,
its slide a silver afterthought down which
we plunged, screaming, into a mirage of bubbles.
We did not exist beyond the gaze of a boy.

Shaking water off our limbs, we lifted
up from ladder rungs across the fern-cool
lip of rim. Afternoon. Oiled and sated,
we sunbathed, rose and paraded the concrete,

danced to the low beat of "Duke of Earl".
Past cherry colas, hot-dogs, Dreamsicles,
we came to the counter where bees staggered
into root beer cups and drowned. We gobbled

cotton candy torches, sweet as furtive kisses,
shared on benches beneath summer shadows.
Cherry. Elm. Sycamore. We spread our chenille
blankets across grass, pressed radios to our ears,

mouthing the old words, then loosened
thin bikini straps and rubbed baby oil with iodine
across sunburned shoulders, tossing a glance
through the chain link at an improbable world. 
                                                                                          Geraldine Connolly

 

photo by Invitation To Inspiration

 The vivid imagery of Connolly`s verses brings out the flashbacks from the depths of our memory...
We`re sixteen again...
 Back then, the summer was such a dreamy place...
The heat didn`t bother us...
We loved the itchy sensation of salt on our skin and in our hair...
Can we bring back the innocent and simpler us?

photo by Invitation To Inspiration

  The truth is, we cannot...
The only thing we can do is make the present, cranky and complicated us into memory hunters.

We`ll save the sunny memories of summer 2012 for rainy days...

We invite you to hunt together with us...