Sparks

I stood at the edge of Rockaway beach trying to light my cigarette against the wind. There were three syllables in your name, but my tongue kept stumbling over the first one. I wondered if that was a sign I should leave things be.

I waded through high tide to get to the pools on the far side of the beach. I had a weird fixation on finding a giant starfish. I wanted it to be that mottled pink color— the one that says “I’m having a good time!” in summer photos.

I didn’t find one.

You told me you thought it was odd that people made fun of your name. I told you it was odd your name was Xanadu Sparks. You laughed it off— and we walked towards the old ice cream shop. An old shop bell rang as we walked in. The old woman at the counter smiled at you and asked if you wanted to try their new Marionberry flavor.

I knew all you wanted was a double scoop split of chocolate and peppermint, but I wanted to see how nice you’d be.

We both walked out with scoops of Marionberry and I had more questions about the old woman’s charisma than answers about Xanadu.