Waking up to Kalua Coffee’s and wandering around a city and showing someone all of the thing’s you have seen a million times that they have never seen and making them special all over again. Full of caffeine and a shaky sort of buzz and the sun is in your eye’s but that’s what shopping for new sunglasses is for. There’s bright green grass and a face you’re allowed to kiss if you want to and you’re waiting for a boat while struggling to find a single cloud in the sky. There’s a breeze and an instant sun tan and there are some waves but not too big and they rock you into some calm state you haven’t seen since last spring. The water isn’t too cold when you dip your foot in and tip toe along the shoreline and you’re on an island that was once made of garbage and was set on fire, a fire that lasted for 10 whole years, and you spike an ice cold diet coke with fire ball and stroll up the side down this golden path and can hardly believe that’s actually true, but if someone saw you right now maybe they wouldn’t believe you were a mound of flaming trash for a few years either. You climb all the way up and remember how a year ago exactly you did the exact same thing except for you had Amy Winhouse’s version of Valarie and a certain smile stuck in your head and this time you brought a boy and are overly fascinated with this butterfly and you are still trying to figure out which day’s been better to you. Instead of dying in a chipotle after too many hits from a gravity bong and jumping on some floor bed mattresses in a sketchy apartment this year, you get the last sam summer being sold on the boat and all of these ladies share their dark chocolate covered ginger from trader joes and you walk home and lay down in your makeshift bed in your dad’s apartment. For some reason on these sorts of days it doesn’t matter if you sleep on a glorified couch instead of a bed or if you’re somebody’s glorified friend instead of their girlfriend. You find out that being a month away from 21 is a rough age to be and that you are terrible at playing darts but also decide that beers will always taste better on back decks and that everything will always be more than ok than it seems. You remember how last July was a drag and you wished summer would end so bad and you thought that would make this boy want to be with you for real, but now summer is back and that boy is gone and you have a new favorite band and it’s not so bad at all and July might not drag on any more than this strange June seemed to.
The next morning he’s taking up too much of the bed/couch and he has to leave and you don’t make too big of a deal about it, even though all you want is for him to have back deck beers with you all day. He goes though and there’s more Kalua in your coffee and more time than you really know what to do with. Maybe having a double on Monday doesn’t matter because next thing you know you’ll have plenty of money and it will be next May and there won’t be any more of this at all-This summertime revolving around a certain smile or beers on back decks or fireball on islands that used to be on fire or Kalua in your coffee. Maybe you wont miss so many people at once and your biggest problems wont revolve around pizza and maybe June won’t drag so much and neither will July and you’ll wish it would and want this all back and you’ll put Kalua in your coffee and it won’t quite taste the same and you wont be the same either. You won’t be sweating on the back deck writing about it all. Maybe this is all that matters at all, maybe it’s everything, like, this is it-This morning of kalua coffee and glorified couch kisses and sweltering smiles and scary beers and such-Maybe this is what it’s all about and what it’s all for and everything you have been looking for, maybe this is it.