We Became Summer by Amy Barone

We Became Summer

Long before we needed protection,
we formed tribes and picked a chief.
First-borns have a knack for stirring idolatry.

Bike rides energized us on innocent mornings.
The sun perfumed our fresh skin,
before self-awareness replaced laughter
and possession replaced play.

At dusk, seduction set in.
Bruises faded and mosquitoes fled.
Lightning bugs appeared, as beer-soaked dads

threw teen neighbors into backyard swimming pools
and we invited boys into the playhouse shed,
before ennui replaced embracing fear of the unknown.

by Amy Barone

Amy on Facebook

Twitter: @AmyBBarone

Editor’s Note: Long, lazy, childhood summers inevitably give way to adulthood. This poem uses that memory as an extended metaphor for growing up.

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