We pack a picnic

Leftover pizza, overripe nectarines, Texan beer

My bike has a flat tire you forgot to replace after borrowing it

But I'm 'just so much better at it' you say, batting your eyes

At least I fixed something today

The park isn't full

Nor empty

We see a woman do 3 laps while we debate cribbage strategies

You preemptively eat a nectarine

As the juice dribbles down your chin I admire your gracelessness wiping your whole arm against your face

It must be about 90 degrees and 8:30

It starts slowly, a beep

Almost a chirp

Before we identify where its coming from


The warmth of the air fills with a families song

We lay back

I find your hand from the familiar curve of your wrist

The droning fills our watches and ears

The gorgeous watermelon colored mountains paint the horizon

Closing our eyes we lose pace of the setting sun