Remembering summers…

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

but free and able to breathe;

 

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.

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