to be one’s own reflection

when, once,

we spoke in the tongue

of the sun itself.

as the waves soaked

our pant legs,

shoulders dusted

in freckles and music notes.

when we, once,

stood on the edge of

the water and

drew

constellations in

the pliable air between us.

we wrote in

repetitions

about each other, just

because we could.

when, once,

we understood each other,

when

the sun and the air and the waves

were all

ours.