| This is a poem about summer, and a rare one from this bunch that i kinda like. It was published in Cellar Roots (see Abused). |
Wind in trees, windows cracked. Shorts on, skirts up, shirts off. Cruisin�, ballin�, loungin�. Sweat and dirty knees & elbows. No class, no books, no bothers. Bikes, hikes and Ferris wheels. Whistles, smell of hot dogs and cotton dreams. People screaming, car alarms. Fruits & veggies and flat tires. No shoes, no pants, no worries. White days & brown nights and slow weeks that go by too fast. |