I was going to sleep while thinking of sandy beaches where you can watch the sun set and the moon rise while the sweet water pushes in and out with the tide. Sleeping by the fire, black and milds, playing golf. Being young together and holding our own and getting high. Pine trees and backyard fires and beat up highways that go everywhere. The smell of summer, the smell of dirt and grime and oil and a greasy burrito in the middle of the night. Driving by the bakery at 3 in the morning just for the smell of it. Summertime girls and a swimming pool while songs played and we grinned and drank wine high into the summer night. And not having to be anywhere but knowing breakfast will be cooking. Comfort in not having to be anywhere but where you are. Lickity-split for twilight chocolate malts on the banks of the old Grand River. Parties where no one cares who you are, how much money you have, or what kind of car you drive, as long as you're willing to get down. Getting dirty and fireflies, falling asleep beneath the buzzing of the midwest summer night. And then I dreamt of every friend I've ever had, every girl I've ever loved, and every memory summer in Michigan has handed me. Sometimes you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.
