Untitled #1 (Summer Song)

In similar situations, he had always found himself slightly nervous—the whole crowd of people he barely recognized from school, the passing of a beer bong, the cartwheeling through the bonfire, and the constant drumming of one drunk or another on the keg.


Perhaps it was the mescaline he had taken forty-five minutes prior to their drive out to the beach, maybe it was the startling red hair of a girl he hadn't remembered from high school, but most likely it was the moon, grafting itself infinitely to the water in never-ending levels, slightly separated by thin veils of ripples, which spoke to him, which spoke to him, saying 'we are thin wafers, we are broken bibles, we are never to be infinite' so that, as the sun slowly moved up, blinding the moon, he found himself hidden in the middle of people whose names escaped him the moment after graduation, laughing sorely with a song running in his head.