I was born in Summer
But never loved that season much
I don’t know what’s about it
That always gets me susceptible
Perhaps it’s the scorching weather,
The mosquitos or the sweat
There’s this memory that keeps coming up
Like an old movie I’ve seen a thousand times
It’s me & my girl friends
Chilling in a park near my house
We were twelve and used our allowance
To buy bottles of Bacardi Breezer
No one could see us, it was a small town
And lying in the itchy grass with our booze
We thought we were so cool and rebellious
Oh, the sweet childish naivety
Then we would gather the remaining of our money
To ask strangers to buy us cigarettes
Soaking in perfume so our parents
Couldn’t smell the smoke on us
We pictured our future lives
Where there were no rules and bed times
And we could watch all the movies we wanted
And become bosses, caretakers and lovers
Apart from Roxy who wanted to be a mom
Nothing worked out that way
Parts of us already knew it
But it was fine to dream
There wasn’t much to do anyway
While waiting for school to start again
And waiting and waiting and waiting
For the future to come, for the freedom
For more purpose, for not having
To hide the booze and the cigarettes
We were still friends in this future we imagined
It’s been ten years since I last heard from them
Roxy didn’t get to be a mom
But Alexis did
Maja Urukalo is a disabled and chronically ill writer based in Italy who drinks excessive amounts of coffee and thinks too much for her own good. She's an addict of literary magazines and when she has the spoons writes on her Substack newsletter (A Crip Punk) about disability and accessibility-related stuff and other existential topics. You can find her on Tumblr too (@majaurukalo).
