Miss Green

You were the honey dew melon
that slips off my paper plate
on the hottest day in July
two-piece bathing suit
the color of cut grass or peridot
on our only vacation
where you confessed
you didn't really like the ocean
but you liked burying
your hands and feet in the sand,
but you liked me.

For three days we took shots of tequila
sucking the salt from our elbows and necks.
For three days we had strawberry-bitten, mimosa-drenched sex
at the hotel where everyone stared at us.
We beat two truckers at pool
broke the ice machine
smoked opium in the shower and shared a bath robe.

I knew you for three days
but time is irrelevant
because somewhere you are stitched in my mouth
and somewhere there is a post card I didn't have time to send
a book of matches, a stone in my dish-
the shimmering landscape of your body etched in my mind.

- Anonymous