Brining

Our bodies bouncing, buoyed, ballooned.
Lift, fall, submerge, re-emerge.
Her voice floats to me between waves,
spills the sand of sixteen-year-old life.
Ground shells of friendships, grades,
driving lessons, birthday parties, pets
rub together, drift apart, crash
against coral, surf boards, my legs.
We brine like this for hours
in the Pacific’s warm envelope.
Two girls, two women,
floating away and toward.