pale red bangs plastered to her forehead
freed from flip flops
she drags her feet on the C train floor
and eight summers ago
wet grass did cling to ours
as we sat at the dining room table swearing silently
and these days at the beach
gum between your toes
how did your arms get so long?
we all swear, piled on beach blankets
mouths big and guffawing
oh yes we'll have friends in 10 years
and here in front of me
sullen kids sink deeper in their chairs
the flour hangs in the air
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