she strained to hold on to the good parts when the not-so-good parts were hard to shake off            

spilt milk

          with the fear of stagnation she became a shapeshifter            


          there were those hot sticky nights picnics by flashlight on the dewey grass waiting for the fireworks we chased fireflies              

one summer

                      “It’s funny how one summer can change everything. It must be something about the heat and the smell of chlorine, fresh-cut grass and honeysuckle, asphalt sizzling after late-day thunderstorms, the steam rising while everything drips around it. Something about long, lazy days and whirring air conditioners and bright plastic flip-flops from the drugstore…

drive in

        summer nights we’d pile in the back of dad’s station wagon in our pajamas equipped with blankets, pillows and paper bags full of junk food and fall asleep halfway through the feature