That Summer

And so that summer, up on rooftops, with cold but sometimes warm rum, the sunshine, just us, as friends…or whatever. We spent every last second we could up there, taking in the city, taking in ourselves. Not a care in the world. There were no paychecks, no homework assignments, no arguments. We could barely hear the horns honking in the busy Seattle streets below. I never waited for your calls, I never asked where you’d been, because all mattered was what we did, not who we were.
Somehow, I always find my way back to rooftops, to see where I am, to see where I want to go, even if there’s no implied direction, I have to be able to see. The way I wanted to see you, the way I saw you that summer.
Perfect.