Golden Boy
October 7, 2010 Leave a comment
You come to my screen door
Bare-chested, bronzed,
Sandy hair surfing your head;
Now, I’m riding a memory pipeline:
-Toasted days popping up,
-Tequila soaked mornings,
-Topless cars, aqua Jello pools,
-Tecate hosting lime and
Threadbare clouds.
…Ban de Soleil dollops and
—-Flip!
—–Flop!
You come to my screen door
Salty; Sand-caked:
“Hey, dude, Surf’s up.”
“Waves don’t wait.”
(The girls always find you.
Under the sun, riding the sea,
Your boogey-board charm
Ogled by Oakley eyes.)
You come to my screen door
I say,
“Summer, you’re too lazy to be much good,
But I’ll keep you ‘round just to look at.”
© Sally Paradise, 2010, All Rights Reserved