To Swim the Treeline

There was a time in late August
where the wind moving through
the trees sounded like the ocean
and love was enough. That time

does not exist for us now. Like
pre-teen television actors, we
would dream of a future life:
To be kissed on a picnic table,

while our friends went swimming.
To be only honest. Only truthful.
Cast the liars to the chlorine and
let them twist and flail. To sink

was an unacceptable compromise.
Where did we go wrong? Why
can't I lay in the tall, tall grass
and think of only golden things?

It is so easy to fall,
but never backwards.