The time we skinny-dipped in the midnight lake with no bottom, the time we screamed into the throat of the ravine while we stood in the water that divided it in two, the time we soaked in the sulfur pools and let the steam lap at our tears until we were quiet and the whole world went still, the time we lost each other in the middle of a wild city, the time we never found our way back.
The time we saw a ghost standing between us, the time we followed a tobacco trailer through the countryside until it stopped at the sea, the time we crushed the Lily of the Valley beneath our feet searching for mushrooms, the time we never found what we were looking for.
The time we slept in the cigarette haze of a mirrored casino, the time we threw ice cubes from the rooftops and watched them sizzle on street level pavement, the time we dreamt the same dream, the time we climbed into the bowl of mountains and came out at a frozen lake, the time our words couldn’t save us.
The time we watched the fire eat a field of lavender, the time we covered our mouths with rags and blinked against the daytime dark, the time we followed the bird into the forest and discovered a bath made of stones, the time we watched the water surge beneath the bridge like a stampede of silver-maned horses, the time we ignored all the signs, the time we said goodbye and meant it.
The time we ate apples that tasted like our childhoods, the time we wrote letters and mailed them to nowhere, the time we walked to where the river began, the time the Great Blue Heron called our names, the time we forgot who we were, the time we let the river take us under.
The time we went north and slept in the hulls of canoes, the time we went south and collected stones in the shapes of hearts, the time we walked through the forest trailing breadcrumbs for the lost guides we hoped were close behind, the time we carried water in bowls we’d carved by hand, the time the bowls were empty, the time we never filled them again.