unraveled in the yard
amongst
the weeds, the high grass.
hot to the touch,
in this summer
heat.
how we turned the spigot
on
with our small hands,
using our shirts,
our thirst
nearly unbearable
after our games.
letting the water run
and run
until at last it was cold.
drinking that awful taste,
running
it over our heads.
our backs.
until it was time to
go home.
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