CAMAS

Summer solstice
the first day of shorts
pale jittery legs awaiting
the inevitable burn
as I forget to reapply
so easily distracted by
the colors
brighter than beads
fruits riper than mid-day sun
the condensation of ice glasses
radiating puddles on the table clothes
of cafes I might have met you at
for affogatto and egg salad sandwiches
and if it were later
you’d order campari
and I’d hold my hand up
from yours to shield my tired-from-squinting eyes
to watch your undulating words
spill and tumble from your mouth
mingling with our laughter
full and acknowledging
that we don’t send near enough
time together.