Remember the way they rattled,
the coins on the dash as we
drove over washboard roads,
in perpetual pursuit of something to do?
We were nonstop restless
drowning in summer heat and itching
to wrap ourselves in some sort of
mischief or mayhem or both.
She will respect this, we said,
as we dove from the cliff above the quarry
splashing into breath-taking water
desperate to impress.
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