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Description
Baby, you a song, smell
of beach store tanning oil,
clean sweat swerving
in salted rivulets down our sides,
meeting the bright towels beneath
our darkening, light me up
that cigarette
at the Oak Island DQ where
our cutoffs are dresscode,
our bikinis
not quite the right size
because they’re never quite
the right size while
your sand-filled Vans,
my two-year Reefs bring that beat
back to me again,
singing sister
with the windows down like
it’s that first summer I had a car
and the AC doesn’t work but
we’re heading into the shimmery swelter
of highway between us and
our beach, our sand,
our secret-sharing.

Description
Baby, you a song, smell
of beach store tanning oil,
clean sweat swerving
in salted rivulets down our sides,
meeting the bright towels beneath
our darkening, light me up
that cigarette
at the Oak Island DQ where
our cutoffs are dresscode,
our bikinis
not quite the right size
because they’re never quite
the right size while
your sand-filled Vans,
my two-year Reefs bring that beat
back to me again,
singing sister
with the windows down like
it’s that first summer I had a car
and the AC doesn’t work but
we’re heading into the shimmery swelter
of highway between us and
our beach, our sand,
our secret-sharing.