it is summer
It is the heat of summer. It is how your shadow slopes because Sun is working hard, because Earth won’t go with her the way she wants and your shadow bends towards the hill like a hall of mirrors, go get lost, let your tires run over the oil slick mirage on the road. The beaten path is tipsy, what it would give for another cold one and a busty woman with knee sweat singing the blues.
Say something new about summer. I dare you. Eat a blackberry and try to not remember feral hot nights capturing the flag and high pitched squeals, your bare feet baked by the asphalt and blemished by gravel. Put an image on top of another one, find out if it makes a poem. Count our summers together, lose track. Look up at the ice cream moon. Still melting, you and I, well into the night.
It is summer, your shadow is ten feet tall stretched by light and peppered by insects beating the heat, humming for someone to suck on. It is your sweet, sticky belly with skin crisping under the lamp in the sky. A peach is yellow and fleecy, a river is deep and cool. Your shadow will always be in front and as light as a water skeeter, never tired of another year going by. It is july holding hands with august, it is drawing hearts in the dust.
petals and bees 