03.07.02 - 4:30 p.m.

i know its summer because my hair keeps getting
shorter; the heat makes me grouchy; i talk shit.
and i reminisce about other summers
when my windows were pelted with stones
or i made mistakes like the boy with the boat
or i went dancing every night.
when we snuck out on the pier and laid,
stargazing, question-asking and i
accidentally fell in love.
there are never enough bikes and farmers markets to
satisfy me. not enough flipflops and smocked sundresses
and running across the street, knees high, stride
exaggerated, to avoid the hot asphalt.

to celebrate your independence, grill veggies isntead.