By Madison Date: 2001 Aug 20 Comment on this Work [[2001.08.20.00.48.13148]] |
Half-buried in a mix of shell and disintegrated rock, the solar powered radio cranked out Alice Cooper on Laguna Madre Bay. School's out for summer. School's out forever. We were dancing in the streets and in the surf and on the beach and our toes cried uncle and aunt Louise over buckets of hot-coal grains of sand. School's been blown to pieces. With the windows down and the AC juiced we mouthed the wrong words and hummed the rest while crazy Billy hollered una mas cerveza por favor. The summer wind carried spritzs and mists and colognes of the water and the salt and bright pink oleanders as loud as a beach umbrella. It clung to our skin and we clung to each other like summertime summertime, jumping from the water playing wet skin hot skin wet skin hot. South of the jetties we celebrated summer days and summer nights and eight ounce bottles of Hawaiian Tropic spf no. 4 while batman kites kamikazed in the sea, diving like skimmer black and yellow surfin' birds and he was my surfer boy. Skills of summer came fast in the cool of night water, skills of summer came fast in the warmth of the moon while crazy Billy hollered una mas cerveza por favor. 19 aug 01 M Madison |