When I think
Of summer
I think of
Shoulder-length high clover
Bushels of waxy grasses
The morning dew resting
On its yellow surface
Dried to hay
By the sun
Horny red-orange ferns
Intricate webs of fleshy blooms
Delicate lavender flowers
White and yellow petals
Swaths of thistle
Their purple heads shriveled brown
To reopen next year
In their full vividness
Hard soil
Caked mud
Coated with pebbles
You think of
Intense heat waves
Honking traffic
With anxious families
Leaving for vacations
In the Bahamas
The scorching sun
Beating upon neon signs
Fading phone booths
To whitish plastic
Long days spent
In the chlorine-filled pool
The rummaging for bathing suits
The smell of sunscreen
The roaring of the air conditioner
Music blaring loud
Nights spent up late
Mornings slept late
The eagerness of parents
For their kids
To get back to school
But then I live by
A vacant lot taken over
By vegetation
You live by everyday streets
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