Debra Nystrom

April 2014

Skinny-Dipping After Work at the Drive-In
by Debra Nystrom

No moon; the pickup’s headlights stare
across the river from the bluff above, where
fields of sunflower heads turn away,
waiting for dawn. It’s cold, yelps Amy,
and Brian calls where are you
but she screams no, get away, so
he and Tommy laugh, dive under for
her legs again. In March I skated over
this same place, past Farm Island, leaving
my track lines in the snow hard to imagine
now, and even the water must
have moved like this beneath me, erasing
bodies’ outlines, as if everything touched
everything all the time.


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