thriller novels and other methods of swinging from chandeliers

july - tea lights - unfortunate events of spilling red wine - barnes and noble
wednesday evening licking stains from wood and climbing on bookcases and jumping in pools that aren't ours
throwing novels on skyscrapers of children's section questionable topics and people watching
sticky summers in white leather cars and coughing up thick sea salt
(stop eating bread and butter in heavy slices behind counters that show back to the future too many times in a row)

11 am - dried up face paint - screens thick with dead bugs and dust - tire swing
climbing on your shoulders and yelling in lakes shining watermelon
melted popsicles in dirty sheets on clotheslines on martha's vineyard
olivia rodrigo in campers trundling down dirt roads
(forgetting that we don't know how to drive)

burnt matches - you - me - dead fish
ready to say goodbye to glowing lanterns, dolphins that don't show up, dreaming on lawn mowers
reading thrillers on blankets
ballet in backyard sprinklers.

nonsensical poems - new york city - braided bracelets left behind on elevators
ballrooms we're not supposed to be in and converse threaded through the chandelier 
burning down the place and running and fleeing up escalators at macy's at one in the morning
it's too hot to even think of burgers
and milkshakes when we're done running.