you were stretching out your hand
grasping for the cooling wind
driving through Europe, leaning your head against the warm backseat of our car
feeling the air become solid in your palm,
as life becomes something more solid and clear when you grow up
… before it dissolves
droplets of water
relieving on hot days in July
making you cold, on your way home five in the morning, late september
bare shoulders and bare legs
and a wave of disappointment
washing over you, again and again
that hollowness in your stomach
and you watch the birds fly by
and you wish you were that bird
living on the seashore
reaching for the clouds