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Gravel Pit

Kelsey Knoedler, 2010

We drive in
Your mother's car
The air conditioning
Broken
So we roll down the
Windows
And stick our hands out
Letting them ride
The thick waves of
Summer.

You turn the knob
On
And Mozart's strings
Hang heavy.
My under-thighs
Stick
To the leather seat,
And my bathing suit clings
To my bare
Stomach.

Park. Door slams
People picnic
A knot of teenagers
Gather
On Beach towels.
One with tattoos
Jumps off the edge to a
Deep
I can't see, and
Splash.



Kick off flip
Flops
Gravel digs into the soft
Palms of our feet
My cheeks beginning to
Burn
The sun kissing one
And you kiss the
Other.

I pull off my jean shorts and
You lift your tshirt,
Wet
With sweet sweat,
Over your head.
You slip your hand
In mine
Sticky.
As we walk to the
Edge.

"You first," I say.
You squeeze my hand
We leap
Falling
Cutting the thick summer
Air
With our pointed toes,
Into the shivery
Pit.
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All Information Copywright by Chimes Publication, Saint Mary's College 2010