in summer i like to sit on my wooden patio
and watch the cars passing by
in the distance,
on the main road,
in the scorching sun,
hotter than in california,
between deciduous trees,
greener than ever,
i get a piece of crumpled paper
and a pen with black ink,
i describe the cars passing by on the road,
red,
yellow,
green,
black,
you must be in the air.