Parked in the sand. My face and legs both burnt just half way from facing the only direction that mattered all day. the direction facing her. Drinking from endless cups of sugary infused tequila while trying to memorize all the accents we could hear off in the distance, recreating those we couldn't quite place. a guessing game of international words.
the infectious ocean air. the changing juxtaposition of the stars. we figured out the big dipper, but all else got lost in our shuffles.
I've always wanted to watch the sun go down in Mexico. On the beach, kindling fires. but what they don't tell you is that sunset happens in an instant. What they don't tell you is that you'll chase it down past the waters edge, every night, hoping to catch it in your hands. So you can remember the moment before it goes rushing passed you. What they don't tell you is how it'll change everything. that moment. how perfection becomes obtainable, how every adjective you can throw becomes far too little to describe it's passing, it's present, it's future. What they do tell you, is that a moment is all you can ever really expect from perfection. and I got mine.