Flip flops
chase raindrops.
The summer is fading.
I’m soaking
it in -
the sweat on the skin,
the smoking
pavement,
turning jet black,
the warble
of robins
deep in the woods,
the bobbing
kayak,
rocks underfoot,
and her on my back,
fresh out of the water
(fish out of water?)
pulled at the root.
“Find flat ones for skipping.”
Small stones flying past.
It feels like she’s slipping
out of my grasp.