August

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It’s hot, it’s sweaty, it’s smelly,
It’s a lemonade-standing ice-cream-chewing day.
It’s a terrible “Why haven’t I caught fire yet” kind of day
And burning blisters coat the young man’s feet.

It’s a birthday celebration.
It’s an “If the ac goes down one more time I’ll shoot myself” feeling,
It’s the guttural noises boiling milk makes in a person stomach.
It’s the sounds of young men trampling into a new school year.
And burning blisters coat their feet

It’s a new day, a new beginning,
It’s an era for new friends or no friends.
It’s a place where leaves are growing or on fire,
And burning blisters coat the young man’s feet

It’s hot, it’s sweaty, it’s August.
Running through sprinklers and falling on the slip-slide n bleed.
When a young man walks to school, a nervous smile on his face,
And burning blisters coat his feet.





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