Summer was ours. We were seventeen and full of fun and ideas of how the world should have been. I went for a swim. The water burned me with an electric joy. I didn’t think too much about it, just closed my eyes and dove into the blue. The summer boys heard the entry and ran to me. Behold my sin; though the water is cool, I’m floating free and joyfully. Darkness enveloped my vision and I watched the abyss as childhood visions hit me like glass plates to my skull. The scene plays out with its shatter. This is a memory orchestra. I float in liquid magic. I sank quickly so the water would drown the disillusionments of daytime television in me. The boys tried to save me, though I fought the hands when they pulled at my wrists. And I crossed my arms but one of them took my waist and I kicked but was pulled to the surface anyway.

Oxygen hit me like a stone to the chest.

My lungs severed the liquid.

Lungs ached and limbs dead and bitter cold.

Gently, I roll onto my back.

Coughing a bit more.

The light came with a thousand new colors.
Two figures hover over me.

I squint my eyes and look at their faces like wicked angels ought to be looked at.
And sigh.