Maia

17

Good Vibes

The cool metal countertop makes my thighs shiver
as we sit in this small in-between space by the kitchen.
We talk quickly for hours without pause, there is always something to say
when I’m with you.
We’ve been here since the sun disappeared
behind the basketball hoops, and if I look out the window I can see black
turn to indigo to blue, the daylight fading in.
The tea we came here to make has cooled beyond lukewarm, and I can’t figure out
why we stayed so long,
our legs swinging off the edge of the aluminum counter, our mouths opening
to spill our secrets. I see it in the way your head tilts
when you listen to me, the way your eyes
open wide when your feelings roll off my tongue, the way
you squeeze my hand as I ramble about something that probably won’t matter
by tomorrow, but it is tomorrow already,
or is it? I never know where tomorrow begins, but I know
that I want to stay here in our Eden for every tomorrow. I want to sit on this icy countertop until my legs freeze and my tongue tires. I can’t help but feel that something is tying me to this place, to
you—it must be good vibes, like you said.
We call it good vibes because we don’t know
what else to call it. It doesn’t have a name, but I think
it deserves one.
If it was mine to name, I’d call it
Summer.