Flowing Ink

United States

enjoy my ever-changing existence through this wondrous world of words
wtw's resident quiet kid in the back

Message to Readers

I miss how things used to be, but here we are. Feedback is welcome.


July 8, 2020


Walking through the streets in the summer
Sticky, dewy skin, and clothes drenched with sweat,
acrid steaming trashcans overflowing their lids 
sudden blasts of cold air from the bodega doors
opening and closing, the scent of sea salt and asphalt
carrying in the wind, because hey darling you were lucky enough
to live near a harbor and be born on an island half an hour from a city,
Face masks lying in the dirt and wilted litter
people gathering with reckless abandon, because hey it's summer
lighten up a little. Hanging vines climbing up fences
blooming into sultry honeysuckle and greenery in sidewalk cracks,
grasses tall and yellowed, hiding ticks and mosquitos.
No more italian ice from the shop 'round the corner,
no more sticky sweet drips down your arms as you get rain freeze
because the summer heat and quarantine's been driving everyone
to the safe, cool embrace of home air conditioning.
Scabbed over knees and longing for the public library
wishing to be 6 again and reading five paperbacks in a lazy afternoon
to get a smile and plastic prize dripping of contentment from the librarian.
Summer rains carrying the smell of soaked, sun backed asphalt and brick,
take a deep breath darling, you're home.


See History
  • July 8, 2020 - 10:00pm (Now Viewing)

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