The most beautiful girl from 1973

This hot endless summer strings herself through long weekends.
She parches skin and tongues thirsty for cold beer and laughter whilst she paints faces with freckles.
She breathes over honey-hued shoulders knocking against each other at jostling tables of hands on glasses and smiles that reach to the corners of eyes.
Her hours are all-night diners and we wait on each other in short skirts, frills and skin.
She holds with bold arms, chuckling at waves of hair she’s kissed before friends noses tangle themselves in them.
Her black nights are hot with moist gums and groins that meet and greet, shedding frowns like clothes under a blanket of youth.
She tastes of salt and smells of honey.
She smirks at our open voices and hollers through new accomplices’ swollen lips,
‘Are you guys rock stars?’

‘Sure we are’
we sing back at them.