Campingstyle Love Seat
July 12, 2004
we shared a seat on the sweating meat cooler, a campingstyle love seat as compared to the individualist brown & yellow striped folding chairs that make seating for two impossible. and you sat hunched over placing your chin in your hands & your elbows on your knees so that i could lean back against you: a perfect outdoor recliner to view the passing stars.
in the darkness we felt our way around insect repellent & illegal campfirepits as mosquitoes chewed on our ankles. we eventually made our way down to the lake around midnight- fifteen boys & girls in a row- where shorewashed stones left little scars on each of our already-sun-burned big toes. we promised to compare the damage in the morning. but before then we waded out into the dark water with squishy mud pulling us further under and you willingly lost your swimming trunks and i feared the thunder and fading stars.
each night crashing storms & rain would wake us up long enough to zipup the meshy tent windows & we would laugh a little before charliehorses and wetbottoms. in the morning we woke up in puddles- our underwear wet and the tarp somewhere blown in a tree. and we would return to our bathingsuits, waverunners, or towels and swam until it grew dark all over again.