Sarah

17

Inhaling for a three-count, my head
Swims and I am reeling from the
Teeming aromas that buzz through
Summer air

June smells like the first time
We turned on central air
Hot dogs, the rusted grill
(She preferred charred)
A hint of overnight camp

Traces of sticky marshmallow
Oh, and don't forget sunblock on a
Listless lifeguard's nose, suntan lotion
Caked on a teenaged girl's lackluster skin

July is firework ashes permeated
By saltwater waves and Saturday night's
Bald bonfire stench

On the longest days we breathe in each other,
Exchanging faint shampoos and soaps and attraction
All of it fades with carnival food, leftover

Sand between our toes

August reeks of stale chlorine as even
Heat starts to stink, like summer was
Left out of the fridge

Too long
Still we want to save it, spray watermelon-scented
Freshener to cover up sweat and nostalgia

Sighing for three exhausting seconds, my skin
Bristles and I am shivering from the
Buzzing balm that surrounds us on a
Summer night
And I know you smell it too:

Change
It's the only scent that lingers