right hand pointing

Not old enough to drive,

I took my first drink at age fifteen.

The sun bloomed inside me

like a second throat

and I have never been as brave since.

We were at the river skimming stones

finishing her uncle’s gin.

She was three years older,

wearing a polka-dot bikini

until she wasn’t.

“What’s the matter,” she said,

“never seen a mermaid before?”

I followed her splash,

both of us going under green water,

staying there forever entangled

before breaking through the surface,

out of breath,

and never young again.