something about the summertime
and running the creeks long legs
in the endless light of the solstice.

something about the heat
and dirt in the east coast air,
swimming through it
so it sticks to your skin,
soaked, sweaty hair across the lines of your face
where salt drips to your tongue
through the corners of your mouth
earning years of dirty youth.

and lightning bugs at dusk against the grey,
green lawns
humidity thick on our voices
screaming out of breath with
a thousand false flashes across
the street trailing our memory in yellow
streaks and long exposure.

it’s February tonight
the streets are quiet in my headphones
and I miss the summer sweet.