the clay patio was baking just hot enough for the dough to rise and crisp and for you to spread your blanket in the sun perfect for a picnic with the kids and observing the man on that really tall bicycle
it’s times like these when you think why doesn’t everyone just shut off and bake in the sun with a glass of peach tea and a pair of well behaved kids who share life like it was their job to love each other their mother dad and especially the old dog
even the young lovers get jealous as their gaze from the park to your front patio witnessing that there is something more to love than just body heat chocolate-dipped strawberries and jazz clubs that children grow like spinach flowers in mellow medallion heat until the training wheels come off and they feel earth’s balance for the first time
and the peaches! they shackle the branches like juicy bombs and you decide that mothers are like fruit unbruised unwashed and perfect something that God herself keeps in her finest crystal bowl and replants in the summer
mother sister friend shoot me some of that peach tea you’re drinking that sun you are soaking that air you are breathing the world needs more of you and you deserve the last taste of its summer light