Summer boys…

There are a few places in my life that I don’t go. Hidden places, best forgotten places, long ago lost summer places. Ah, the boys of summer. Weren’t we all that once?

Look this isn't her, but it could be. There’s nobody on the road and nobody on the beach. I’m swimming in the salty sea back then, making for shore, too far out. Hell, it’s far too rough; any of those ten feet waves might knock me into the rocks and kill me. No sunshine, just the huge grey waves. What was I thinking of? That summer I didn’t give a toss lost between relationships and trying to impress with my too tight white cotton shirts, no money, and little boy shoes.

Well, I guess that you had to be there to be there.

A long time long ago, a big smile, but these days I wander and wonder.

Rollerball, caravans, sandy bay, and I see her. Her head’s thrown back, her hair shines in the sun as she laughs and looks over the top of her sunglasses. No, I don’t wander down here often. That summer is best left out of reach, dead and buried like one of us ended up, the other discarded like an old sneaker lace.

Yes, best not to visit those strange times to drown in that strange summer sea. I try not to look back; I really try to never look back. It was a long, long time ago and I don’t want the waves to lift me and throw me against the rocks all over again.

Was it a dream? I wish. Somehow I got lost in the swimming - all of us lost somewhere in that sea.

Yep, you had to be there to be there - I guess.