Summer Stock

Born deep into August
when the heat
is sticky as flypaper
and the planet
passes through Perseid.

We run through
sprinkler rainbows
and listen for the
ice cream truck.

In the empty lot
we slide
into second base
and raise a cloud of dust.

Squirt guns and
water balloons.
Anything to stay cool.

A quarter in our pockets
and we race our bikes
to the public pool.

Every summer day
the same, until
summer stock auditions
running lines, dress rehearsals
and big dreams.

Walk to the corner store
in cut-offs and flip flops.
We are movie stars in
dime store shades.

Opening night jitters
lights go down
and curtains climb
we shine with every line.
Greasepaint in the blood.

_____________________________

I wrote this one for your birthday, James. I hope the day is filled with love and laughter. Happy (early) birthday.





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