The teenage gaze was unable to be tarnished by the ever impending band aid rip when the once familiar bedroom became just a childhood memory.
Yes independence was beckoning with its siren song of a beam
And adult chatter was slamming against each inch of the brain
Yet somehow summer became static, held steadfast in cement and suspended in time.
It embodied the immense smell of vintage clothing and chocolate milkshakes, which paired with the taste of foreign films and the midnight hum.
It was a quilt sewn with watercolors and pizza boxes while the fabric remained the texture of the nightly screaming of intangible fears into the void that is the freeway.
Could it be that the teenage apathy was just a flare shot out once it was made clear that the ship was too close to the shore?
The rocks are an arm length away, the siren's melody is expanding over the sea.
But to the echo of the chatter, the teenagers dance, and into the unknown the ship sails.