It’s April and there’s sticky apple blood on my chin, a rock in my pocket, and I’m simultaneously 48 and 12 years old: ready to explore the world, knees scraped or not. Hold me back, I dare you. Watch me become a cave diver, discovering the universe as the sea becomes stars. It’s April and. Sun burns my skin, crusty from salt and sleep, and I shed my winter calluses. I’m a lizard, but not. My soul aches, but I’m alive.
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