you already know summer

you've felt

the brambles and sweat, 

the curl of berry-stained lips.

you've seen

the cornflower sky stolen

by a red-orange river,

the evening still thick

with lightning bugs and laughter.

you've held

up your hair against the heat

and turned on a fan, 

while i stand here, in the grey,

skin pale and prickled.

you know

what i don't: that soon,

the sun will slide across the table

and glint off the silverware

at just the right moment,

turning me blind.