I Remember by Anne Sexton

I Remember

By the first of August 

the invisible beetles began 

to snore and the grass was 

as tough as hemp and was 

no color - no more than 

the sand was a color and 

we had worn our bare feet 

bare since the twentieth 

of June and there were times 

we forgot to wind up your 

alarm clock and some nights  

we took our gin warm and neat 

from old jelly glasses while 

the sun blew out of sight 

like a red picture hat and 

one day I tied my hair back 

with a ribbon and you said 

that I looked almost like 

a puritan lady and what 

I remember best is that 

the door to your room was 

the door to mine.