Lake Martin, you are beating down on me with ultraviolet fervor.
A red hot sun branding me into another decade.
This fever smells like aloe, and when I stare at old pictures I'll resent my bare shoulders.
Do you remember being 20?
Paddle out to another manmade island
atop murky water that does not sting with salt.
In the morning we will go thrifting,
and in three years you will try to remember the tip-tapping of toes on Facetime,
and you'll still forget sunscreen.
We're going to climb a very tall tower.
At the top, we will all scream.
Do you hear us yet?
Even when the world is on fire, I will rise first
and work the Mr. Coffee.