January 23, 2010

That time when,

We sat with legs broiling

On those fresh baked metal benches

Like the charring of dogs on pokers

In the pit by my pond

We craved to dip in

Even though we were told

It was much too cold

Like the cups sweating in

Our hands with sticky soda and

Ice cubes tumbling around

Like marbles between our teeth

Till they disappeared

Like the lightning abandoned

Like a leper in these country skies

Baby, I miss those nights