If summer were a girl
she would have short red hair
forked with peroxide
and she would be obese, and wear a bikini
and she would chain-smoke, and be sixteen
and she would walk slowly
down the street to the beach
and up the street to the bar
and live in a trailer park, and be three months pregnant
and work at the Dairy Queen, and eat at the drive-through
and read
Balzac
in French
with delight
Summer is just for that girl.