August 15, 2012 by Kristen
you smell like sunscreen, lake, and cheap beer
nothing but sand in the pockets of your work jeans.
my messy ponytail and tendency to wander,
your country radio songs, the broken air conditioner.
slamming screen door, that ratty sweatshirt I borrowed,
windows down, three words that I swallowed.
travel a familiar back road
with bare feet on the dash
head full of dreaming,
the future replacing the past.
momentary reflections in sunglasses
stolen glances and penetrating smiles,
stained toes from the freshly cut grass
soaked in sunshine, time in the hourglass
no need to wonder.
What you are…
you are my summer.