Monday, August 05, 2013

V. 2, #130: August 5, 2013

The thunder interrupts my daydreams like
unruly children stomping on the floor
in metal boots, and every lightning strike
a cookie sheet slammed hard against my door;

But then the rain--which sizzles on the street
and brings to mind faint childhood memories:
the garden hose turned on against the heat
of summer, all the possibilities

of swimsuits. One bright red, half-filled balloon
in stark relief against the slate-gray sky,
grass clippings stuck to muddy feet at noon,
till thunder stopped our play. Inside, we'd dry

ourselves in soft clean towels while music played
from Brother's room, and Mom brought lemonade.

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