maelynslavik

The air was thick with heat and sunscreen. Our cleats kicked up dust as we ran onto the field already tired from two earlier games.  Summer felt like nonstop softball tournaments weekend after weekend.

New starust slicks the shingles

On the ancient roof of the shed

Where a couple of souls lie to clean

Their greying teenage bodies.

The streetlight turns off at

Half past ten,

“We the people”

Encapsulates everyone.

Not those of a certain party

Not those of a certain race

Not those of a certain background

It was purposefully written

To include everyone.