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

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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