two friends trudge along wet, heavy sand, sticky fingers intertwined
communication between the two sound like the clicks, tweets and rumbles of less civilized animals
almost identical sturdy little girl legs extend beneath the hem of a pair of shorts---one red, the other yellow
the backs of which expand from the padding of their swim pants
little sausage toes sticky with wet sand, encased in grubby white sandals reach from the legs of yellow shorts
red shorts wears blue denim tennies with once-upon-a-time white laces trailing behind, nibs chewed by both
yellow shorts snub little nose wears a smear of chocolate
red shorts cherry-colored lips sports a mole-like dab of that same chocolate near one corner
reaching over, red shorts uses the tiny pointer finger of her left hand to paint the chocolate into a design only she understands
yellow shorts stands patiently letting her
afterwards the clicks, tweets and rumbles resume
one likes to rub sand in the spaces between her toes
the other one is allowed to do so too, but never another place
red shorts curly red hair refuses to be subdued by her white butterfly barrettes
yellow shorts curly black hair frames her face
both like to dance on their toes, seeing who can last the longest---although neither ever keeps track
back and forth they go crisscrossing the wet sand that now covers them from toe to head
they stop to examine a starfish
all pointy limbs and crusty-bodied
no one needs to tell them to take care
to not touch
that as tiny and delicate as their hands are that they can carry death in them
next a creamy pink shell catches their attention
it is picked up, held to one’s left ear, the other’s right
lastly a smooth warm black stone is ceremoniously placed on red shorts tongue
its sea saltiness is savored and remembered years later when during her seventeenth summer she kisses a boy working as a lifeguard at their local beach
the stone is removed and placed in yellow shorts’ mouth
she too will remember this moment, but will have forgotten its essence
“Come on girls. It’s time to go home,” their mothers call
upon hearing this, yellow shorts slips the stone from her mouth into her pocket and takes her friend’s hand for their final trip down the beach