steve forbert midsummer

Here’s to fat women eating large ice cream cones

nattering past my bedroom window.

Here’s to vicious baseball games,

a drive to nowhere,

hot bars,

sweaty women.

Here’s to Mr. Alcoholic dead at 2 a.m.

bang

banging his wife.

Here’s to two litters of kittens in the kitchen.

Here’s to bags of charcoal and pot and Cheezies,

butterflies over the tiny uncut lawn,

old songs on the radio.

Here’s to noisy, bossy kids,

heat in my days

love in my ways

D.Q. on my waist.

Living in Mechanicsville in the 80s

Laurie Fraser