melted crayons in the back seat cracks
and freezer air in lungs
the popsicle through your sun-clinging fingers, down to your elbow
stubborn. That lucky fresh feeling in your stomach
of storm lazy days
surrounded in those sea blue breezes. The sun
light streaks when you squint to see ahead
When the chains on the swing set
remind you of home.

03/16/2003

Posted on 03/17/2003
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