Julia

17

‘Write a poem about summer’

Okay, I can do that
It’s such a broad topic
I can talk about all the cliché summer things
Like the pool or the beach
The hot sun pounding down on hundreds of people
The hot sand burning the parts of you which the sun cannot reach
The hot air coming into each remaining vein and crevice and pore
Forcing you, for relief or out of peer pressure, into the water
But summer isn’t only about heat,
Though on those 104⁰ days when I’m worried my tires might melt,
It can feel like it is

Summer is about riding on the handlebars of his bike,
Holding his hand while walking down cobblestone streets,
Sharing an ice cream cone,
Laying in the grass looking up at
The clouds
The stars
But really only looking at each other –
Really cliché summer love
But I find it hard to write words from the heart
When mine is a crumpled heap in the corner
I leave it at home when I go out;
It cannot handle any more pain
And I’ve decided I don’t need this mythical “love”
Which only exists in romantic comedies and the works of naïve, young poets
But this was supposed to be about summer

I guess I’m not the biggest fan of hers
I don’t like choking on stuffy air all day, but also
I don’t like the arctic tundra that has become my home
I don’t like flip flops – they hurt between my toes
I don’t like grains of sand hiding between the pages of my book
I don’t like constantly having to bathe in sunscreen
I don’t like that I can’t wear sunglasses over my glasses (without looking ridiculous)
I don’t like all my friends going away and leaving me behind
But that all doesn’t make for a good poem,
Just complaining about all the little things that bother me
It’s not deep or meaningful,
But also not comedic or otherwise amusing
It’s not something that people would want to read about,
Right?