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| author in summer |
In summer i drink coffee to wash down the flowers, and the wasps get in my bloodstream and i am stung... i swell up with pride and run down the stairs for a love letter, because love letters only come on the longest days of summer and shortest days of winter, and the mailman's wearing shorts. In summer i put a blanket over the refrigerator 'cause she is awful shaking to stay cool, and i cradle the old phone by my ear for all the gossip i don't need to hear and when i hang up they will go on talking 'cause they did not mind the click... the hummingbird wings are faster than the fan blades but everything is spinning, even the laundry, and we spin together into casual destiny in cotton.
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