and now back to our regularly scheduled program.

nighttime is best.

in summer clothes, feet tiptoe the cool cement, remembering its cracks through cooling blisters. and oh, the last drip-drop-sounds of cars rolling home through almost-wet summer air..

wet - like a swimming pool spread out in said summer air, thrown loose like a blanket for all the neighbors to share; to lay down in the grass-green hills behind our eyes.

no fences, no curfews, no tuesday morning alarm clocks looming.

if you breathe slow enough, you can taste the yester-moment laughter and watermelon communion on your tongue,

so let's all breathe slow. enough. please.

wonderful black-sky, wet-grass, watermelon-sweet moment of minute memory, half-certain and most-welcome,

you are best.


*picture taken from here