The Summer Before Our Lives Began

there is this photo
i took of you
when we were twenty-seven

the summer before our lives began

a brief stop along highway 1
to warm our toes in pacific sand
and burn the central coast blue
into our eyes until orange spots
played on our retinas

the tide was out
and the Montana del Oro sun
dazzled off your white t-shirt
and the kelpy breeze blew your hair
across your sunglasses and your lips
slightly pursed
in the middle of saying something

i look at you now and still see her

(and i can’t decide
if that is sweetly romantic
or deeply unfair

to both of us)