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Last Summer MAG
Last summer
we sat by the beach
and ate cucumbers
peeled and sliced thin
as leaves on pumpernickel bread.
On rainy days
we lifted boxes in the basement
and found leather-bound books
with creamy pages
softer than silk.
Your hair was long then.
I wore my cut-off shorts on sunny afternoons
and underneath
my black tank bathing suit.
At night you borrowed my terry cloth bathrobe
with the seashells on the pocket.
Last summer
we swam into the sea
and squinted deep
our eyes and noses just above the surface
and watched the sun
dip into the water.
I fell asleep to your breathing,
rough and constant, like the rushing tide.
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