cracking oysters


my best friend and i have matching smiles like 
the insides of oysters and the same amount 

of melanin in our skin. it’s magical, really, 
how we look like family but live a time zone apart. 

we are both tanned and warm, welcoming 
each other with eager arms and neon shirts.

he jokes that God had destined us to find each other, 
to stand like pillars of sun-kissed promises and 

wave across the Lake. 
our eyes squint into the light and seeing him is 

listening to a laugh track of all my favorite people, 
forgetting for a moment that they will die one day, too. 

his body smells like returning home after a trip around 
the world: the familiarity of a creaky staircase, 

the comfort of knowing where the utensils are. 
when i open my mouth to tell him something - 

about my birthday, perhaps, or our matching hats - 
the stagnant humidity lingers on my tongue. 

his is much quicker, reacting to my stumble 
with the sort of love only the truth feels. 

the sweltering summer pales in the heat of our embrace. 
for now, my best friend and i crack oysters open over a

camera. we wear fluorescent t-shirts on different days
and sometimes, we misplace the spoons. 

we are only a measured number of 11:11 wishes away
from standing together again: one pillar of promises

stretching to the sky, the same creaky staircase that
not even distance can change.


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