Published in Salty, Issue 2
I ate a plum while tourists took photos of the trees
A crisp half moon, like a smudge of icing sugar
in the wash of blue,
hovered above the line of trees.
I looked out for apple trees on the side of the
road. We pulled over and filled
my pockets with the red globes of fruit.
On the shore of the lake, deep green
turned milky when
We sheltered in the cinema from rain, drying our
hands in the bathroom and
eating little tubs of licorice ice cream in the
Rain swam around us for a few days,
sinking into the grass at the valley below our
swarming across roads, splashing up against our
Always drying my hands on the towel above the boot,
then washing them again in the lake,
Hands smelling of coconut soap.
Underpants smelling of coconut soap.
Drying them on stones, in the branches of beech trees.
Waves rolled toward our tent in the dark and I
walked closer to them, trying
to make out the horizon but only seeing stars,
becoming nothing, then grass.
I walked in my underwear and coat,
legs cold as I slipped back into bed.