Jacob Lawrence, Hot Summer's Night (1947)
August 15, 2004:
The smell of suntan lotion.
Bright sun, hot sand. People.
I rode my bike down the big hill to Mission Beach, to meet my friend
Mike from middle school. To my surprise there were girls.
Older, college maybe. Sophisticated and appraising. All shining hair and eyes,
and lipstick, and bikini cleavage.
I wouldn't sit at their fire ring, I hung back near the boardwalk wall. I would not
take off my shirt. Somewhere in there I lost my sunglasses.
Giggles. Not much sympathy for the unhappy boy.
Except the pretty girl with the soda in either hand. "I think he's cute," she said,
rising from the sand, smiling, walking purposefully in my disbelieving direction.
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This writing is fiction. Please don't confuse it with reality.