is the name of this summer game:
filling up on groceries
canoeing the Youg
looking out the window nook to see the early morning fog
baking in an oven though its door never closes
community herb gardens and pink wedding roses
a full time job and a book of matches
exploring new 'hoods with June love catches
wine corks in the park
and half-price Indian food
killing with kindness those who are rude
getting new two-wheels and revamping the old
refraining from complaining when the climate's a bit cold
Quiet Storm shakes and cemetery strolls
friends making faces that make them look like trolls
washing masses of one-person dishes in a too-tiny sink
starting to like that sweaty cyclist stink
parking in the garage then checking the mail
inability to keep up with graham crackers going stale
collecting triple A maps
hammering holes in the wall
knowing this could only be so great after summer warps into fall
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