Summer

is a laughing child in a small plastic pool

on wet grass that will soon scorch to yellow,

too long to be cut with the push mower.

A shrieking kid standing by

bandaid flapping in the damp breeze

sunburn pulling lips down,

hot tears evaporating into the bright cloudless day.

Summer is the smell of banana boat lotion and the warmth

of my hair against the back of my neck.

Cheap white wine mingling with ice cubes,

sweating it out in a jelly jar with Fred Flinstone's face.

running across wet grass

falling, slipping, laughing then screeching because

summer means not holding it in

summer is the beginning of all things.

Summer is a rash from the lifejacket that rides up with the strap

and pancakes for dinner and sleeping without blankets

towels that never quite dry

and living on sun.

Summer is made of days that don't end.

Hours made of minutes made of seconds that

tick tick tick between blades of grass

standing upright and tall

Fragile, transparent and so green.