Pillowy soft potato sesame seed bun that will wreak havoc on my digestive system. Pretty likely, anyway. But it is delicious, and such a crucial element to a hamburger patty, cooked medium, with lettuce, tomato, grilled vidalia onion, and pickles. I will even pull a McDonalds and dab the bun with mayo before adding ketchup (no mustard). Slice of melted Chao on top and we’re golden, honey. Just golden. You’ll take one bite and want to make it last forever. Who is the Willy Wonka of grilled meats? Fuck it, add barbecue sauce; Fuck it, add honey. Whatever works. As long as it is unfuckwitably delicious and trust me honey, it will be. BBQ in summer time. Like edible photographs, memories made through tastebuds. The smell of chlorine swimming pools as my damp feet break every rule and start to run along the edge; chasing or being chased. The charcoal, grill smell is intoxicating. It is safety. It is summer. It is family. It is friendship. It is 4th of July freedom, no school, Alice Cooper, popsicle sticks, ice cream man songs playing on empty streets. It is beachtown vacations and missing your friends. It is TV, watching it with your hair wet and damp. Freezing in the air conditioning. Cold bathing suit clings to while wet towel also decreases in temperature and betrays. Above ground pool in small suburban yard. Neighbors’ trees and branches from above blocking out the sun. The disappointment of an overcast day. Splashes, fizzles and sizzles as burgers and dogs get flipped. Hot fire grill. The cold water encapsulates my body as I observe my weird weightlessness in water. Forcing my eyes open underneath to see legs like amphibians pushing upwards and kicking, spinning around. The cacophony of the poolside. The mellow ricochet of the diving board. There are three. And each one has a different pitch. My body is not as lithe and flexible as it once was. Regret does nothing though. Panzer Gym pool. Scared to death of 13ft diving board. I think of that big pool, and how long it took me to get to the surface. What if all the lights turned out. That was a big fear of mine: Being stuck in that big pool, unable to see a thing. The quiet, the open, wet, dark expanse – It would kill me, surely. I would drown in my own fear before succumbing to the bottomless water. Terrified. Utterly terrified. I haven’t dived since. Afraid to jump too hard. Afraid to fall off. It’s just me up there. No one else.

Author: Roe

she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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