i savor summer-
it's simultaneous sanctity and serendipity.
yet i squirm at it's sanctuary-
which sets the safety to soften.
i am congealed-
cream on a cone,
a casual coolant for the collective,
and in turn, a helper for the holding hand.
yet the sun's rays are snug-
affectionate and intimate.
they're ideal for all-
all except me.
i spill onto shirts and shoes,
stain spots you thought they paved over,
so skip the clean up- it's out,
cause summer's made sticky now.
