Summers again…

I’ve just begun to remember my summers
as something more than not being in school,
not being in a sweater, not being cooped-up;
they were lived in jeans or shorts and t-shirts,
tube socks with blue or green or red stripes
P.F. Flyers, white but stained washed by Mom
and baked on the porch in the hot sun;

we shared salty popcorn waiting for a ride
and sat on towels in Dad’s car with the windows
down and our hands out like wings learning
lift and drag and Dad asked for a handful
of popcorn and we laughed;

dinner was outside and we ate hot dogs,
potato chips and corn on the cob
as adults ate burgers and slaws, sipped iced
tea or a beer and we chugged Kool Aid or
the treat of sharing a bottle of Pepsi; and

bugs only sometimes bothered us as we
danced close to the musky flames of
tiki-torches, sticky with sweat that didn’t
have an odor; and our ears rang with water
still there from swimming, like the ocean
was in our heads as we slept all night.