Summer Friends

They were a match.

They were of an age,
In year, month, day,
Even to the hour,
And minute.

Same —
Height,
Weight,
Straight,
Thin,
Almost skinny,
No hips,
Narrow shoulders.

His hands slightly wider,
Her’s had narrow,
Seemingly,
Longer fingers.

Sometimes,
She wore his shirts,
Sometimes his pants,
They fit fine,
Looked nice on her.

When he wore her’s,
No one knew,
They weren’t  his.

Always bare foot.

Same color hair,
Dirty blond,
Cut similar,
Short,
Parted,
His on the left,
Her's on the right,
A little curly.

Both had,
Party eyes —
Her left eye, blue,
Right eye, green,
His the opposite.

I know,
Weird.

Both had pale skin,
Neither liked to tan,
Both liked being outside,
In the shade.

Nearly always nude,
Comfortable that way,
Whether the rest of us,
Were clothed or not.

When it rained,
They smiled,
Licked it from their lips,
Allowed it to caress,
Their bodies.

From the back,
On first glance,
Both boys,
Both girls,
Hard to tell.

Look closer,
One boy,
One girl.

She had almost no breasts,
Barely larger nipples than his.

He was an innie,
She was an outie,
Actually,
Both had flat enough tummies,
That it was hard to tell.

His face,
Clean,
Not even peach fuzz,
She wore no makeup.

He had no chest hair,
And not much lower down,
Barely fuzz there,
So everything showed.

She was similarly,
Sparse down there,
Barely concealing,
A female crease.

It was clear,
He was male,
It nearly filled,
His thigh gap.

Her gap,
Showed light though.

When they walked,
She seemed to dance,
Her hips wiggled.

He smiled at her dance,
But walked straight,
No wiggle,
Not even a sway.

He would sit,
On a blanket,
Facing her,
Indian style.

Her legs were,
Most often,
(not always)
Crossed,
Folded,
Beneath her

Both laughed,
With the same,
Musical tones,
Riding up the scale,
His started lower,
Her’s finished higher.

They completed each others’,
Sentences.

Giggled when they did.

Her name was Jamie,
His was Jamesey.

Everyone said,
Twins.

His family was new here,
One generation,
That’s what he said.

Her family was,
Mayflower,
She insisted.

Back somewhere,
Had to be related.

With us,
That summer,
Their relationship,
To/with each other,
Was a mystery.

Never held hands,
No one saw them kiss.
No hug was ever witnessed.

Not between them,
Nor with any one else.

A glance from him,
Brought a smile,
To her lips,
To her eyes,
That spoke of a,
Deepness of feeling,
That "love" might not,
Completely describe.

They joined our group,
One spring day,
Just after the last snow,
Had melted from the grass,
And the first flowers bloomed,
In the meadow,
Where we picnicked,
Out back of the college.

They walked up,
Ate a grape,
Pealed an orange,
Sipped some wine,
Chatted.

We assumed they were,
Fellow students,
Although none of us,
Shared a class with them.

They became friends to all,
We were richer for it,
That summer.

Then it was fall.

One October day,
In that meadow,
Where we picnicked,
Behind the college,
They failed to join us.

Late that afternoon,
As the day died,
The first snow,
Of the season,
Arrived,
Blanketed the meadow.