the firemen arrived
to open
the hydrants on the street,
shooting water
high into the air,
we were in
summer heaven,
stripped to our
shorts
and bare feet,
then down to the corner
store for an ice
cold grape Ne-hi
found
deep inside the icy bin.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
I love summertime poems. .....where bees drown in coca colas. . .and kids race for the Bomb pops, red white and blue dripping down their chins.
Post a Comment