February 9

This is what I remember:
chocolate croissants
the European kind
melting against my tongue
flakes of dough decorating my lap
as you fed me bite after bite
We shoved wedges of lime
into sandy bottles
and the sun began to freckle my shoulders
We wiped blood off our ankles
and pulled sea urchins out of
the heels of our feet
The saltwater always renewed us
before my mind had a chance to catch up
Why does time move so much slower
​when nature is the only thing ruling us?