I Will Always Hope for July
I will always hope for July.
The sticky hot tar smell wafting across
the parking lot reminding you of how much you hate
parking lots and people and open spaces
and how much you love my ugly mostly-gums smile
on those hot sticky days
when the sky is so blue there’s no need
to describe it it’s just blue
so my favorite color balloons can escape
in the air which you say is like the ocean
because you need gills to breathe in this humidity
and I laugh and you laugh and you offer me
your arm like a gentleman as we walk
through those crowds you hate
so I can ride the Batman
in the steamy warm surprise summer rain I love
to listen to on the tailgate of your green Honda Element
after sneaking out at midnight and even the crickets are in on it
and you tell me you love me for the last time
because we’re getting married tomorrow
and after that love is a verb.
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