Went for a visit to fake mom
on a dock.
Life raft was with me. Together hysterical laughing mad. Mad fever sandals. Martinis. Stripes. Cameras. Points. Pickles. Tokens and shells. Easy.
It's like a post card. The candy spins ice into gold. The wind combs your hair into waves. The lanes marked in bright long sticks of chalk. The shrimp sleepy and fried. The sheets damp. Brother sturdy. Mother sturdy. Madly hysterically laughing. Stomachs gone. Taffy gone.
The summer gone.
First half of every class is lit with the final thirty minutes of that day's allotted fiery ball of light
in a school for the working class.
And the board is green. And the chalk is short and dull. And we are tired and famished.
And hysterical laughing mad at the people lagging behind us in surreys and tandems.
Know the answer,
Skin & Toast