Summer

Summer

We’ve been laying out a while
The sand’s still cold
The water low.
But I’ve got no other place to go.

There’s junk and filth strewn all around.
The broken bottles on the ground
The cigarettes and metal cans
The soft caress of your demands
Those words I spat in your pretty face
The conversations at my place
That look which gives that bitter sound
Right next to where we lay around,
The storm has flung them in a heap.

At times I want to wrap a plastic bag
Over my head around my neck
And run
Till I taste fire in my lung.
But you’ve cut holes in every one.

The morning chill has just since gone.
The waves seem kind,
The storm that’s past,
A little dune of our contempt
Has left us to remember when.

You look so lovely in the sand,
The rays reflecting off your skin.
Open your eyes and take my hand
So we can clean all this debris
And let the sun warm up our backs.