I wanted to write a poem called
I'm having a better summer than you
I was sitting by the river
after having sunk myself in
you know, the short breaths,
the regular too cold for you water
and I am warmskinned, pink,
imagining how you're not
we noticed the sand
smelled so bad that
I would eventually say, I have to walk home
because I thought a hot day walk from raniers
and doritos and the slow moves of summersoaked kids
laying your head on my pelvisbone
soft of my stomach
quaking with laughter
under the big tree, spring leaves falling on my body
which I celebrated & you mocked me for it
a lone walk home could be.
but then they all said, it smells like shit here
let's leave
gross beach
dog eating wing
you rubbed my head, my hair which was
just it
more human touch, I am a touch-me sort
out of the muck sand,
I moved a bed to the backyard
but no one bought it, or
I knew I wanted to sleep outside
I made it with quilts & pillows
and Nickey & Ida came in & we talked how we talk
& we smoked & drank whiskey in the dark
and a pine dangled over me.
It was the best sleep like windows open everywhere
I was in a breeze, and everything left
but I always have the best summer
even when the birds don't wake in my ear
even when I leave the elements alone
even when I have to drive a car
with one window down
because I like a long distance
& something in summer is
always to be looked forward to
