• trees dance in the half sunlight
    the aroma of freshly cut grass
    it hits my nostrils like a shovel
    along with the droll feeling of bore

    a hot soft wind runs its fingers across my neck
    drying clothes flutter like moths
    and the water in my pool lay still
    even though I am wearing my trunks

    friends who are lost will never understand
    they are sailing in a sea of fake
    fifteen bucks a month for adventure
    adventure they will never truly embark

    they sit in their chairs and pretend
    they are changed into heroes
    whilst I sit in the sun and snore
    a changed man for the good

    a glimpse of hope sheds some light
    a shutting car doors, and flip flops toward my way
    it looks like un-lost friends have arrived
    and it looks as if the clouds have parted

    who’s up for a swim?