Newly Summer.

May 2, 2011
By Emily Rice BRONZE, Clarkston, Michigan
Emily Rice BRONZE, Clarkston, Michigan
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

The yellow metal monster roars to a stop, lets out a breath of air,
Spitting us onto the over baked asphalt,
which leaks heat from its pores.
Newly summer, our paths diverge.
Later, she knocks,
a promise of friendship bounces off of the walls.
Wrinkled green bills shoved haphazardly into pockets.
Shoes lay near the doorway, laces dingy and tangled.
Pebbles stick the soles of our feet,
A stinging freedom.
The sun hangs low in the hands of the sky,
Yolk dripping between its fingers.
Newly summer, we exchange wrinkled green bills for Styrofoam bowls,
Heaping with sweet slopes of pink.
Cool drops sizzle against our skin, sticky.
The sky lets out a breath of air,
tossing our hair across our foreheads.
Newly summer, we are liberated.

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