why don't you take me
to a dance
and toast the cicada songs and firefly rumblings
the burst of heat against cool skin, the smacking of sweaty skin
and the shavings of cut grass flipped sideways and forward
mr. summertime,
show me the embers of freedom celebrations
wayward diamond fire beams sizzling in the heat
quiet men you adore more for their silence
children in braids and shimmery eyes entranced
with the displays of firecolors in the July sky
afternoon lunches with cool breezes and sweepings of hair
against our cheeks, secrets and joys and laughings and
the slippings of love that so easily are given
a quick squeeze on the shoulder, a lingering hand.
mr. summertime love,
love these; with me.
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