A day I recall,
drowning in a low tide
that had become my life,
coldest summer I have known—
you pulled me out
with an ice cream.
We swung on a swing set
under the sun,
me in oversized sunnies
and a too-small t-shirt.
I was hungover from the night before,
but you didn't care.
You just snapped photos
of me soaring through the air—
capturing fleeting smiles
my face had forgotten for weeks.
I squint at these images,
just as I did then,
wondering what I did to deserve
such a friend.
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