It was in the park that day, when we were barely friends that we laid on the grass, but actually you sat and smoked and I ate an apple, that we never made it to the beach. I have still never been but I drove past one afternoon and it reminded me of the imprint our blanket left into the grass when we stood up like temporary landmarks of idleness and incident. When we had just finished wondering where all the people in the world were if not for in the park with us. My bike was ahead of your bike, but yours was a lighter colour than mine, I think.