Mango Malibu

There are little details we forget. Like, were the windows down?
It's more romantic with the windows down.
We were somewhere in the Interior. Between here and there. Summer
sunshine pouring throught the (possibly) open windows.
Surrounded by tall grasses and a thousand slender birch trees.
Birch might be my favourite tree.
It was probably Nell's idea to make Mango Malibu Sangria. I certainly
would have never thought of it.
Three girls in the back seat sipping from plastic picnic cups, the
kind with straws attached, the kind that are impossible to clean while
you're camping so you close your eyes and try not to think about
germs.
Paul Simon's Graceland playing loud.
"Diamonds on the Souls of Her Shoes" always takes me back there. Some
country road.
Our brown arms waving, our big mouths singing, our hair (maybe)
whipping in the wind.

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