Summer song.

Summer is many things. An escalation of heat mirages. A dip in the creek of a neighbor. A heat stroke mid July.

It's when the flowers of the roadside are grey with dust, and so is the sky, an orange haze sweeping over the mountains in a gauzy fog, blurring out their crisp silhouettes from the dimming day.

When the oil runs like water, a heated syrup dripping from every nozzle of every gas pump for miles and many more miles.

It's the popping of the ears in a pool ten feet deep, with skin drenched in chlorine.

When the tanning oil babies run to the sand, and lay there, throwing their bodies on the Earth, belly down, their skin sizzling.

The sound of chalk dust on concrete. The sound of bicycles whirring away down hills at night. The taste of Kosher hot dogs on the air.

It's a midnight sparkler.

A heat filled room. Stifling, with no breeze.

It's sandals full of well... sand.

The late night shindigs thrumming a house up with yellow light and conversational voices, echoing out across a star filled lake.

It's slippery when wet. It's a flash flood. A downpour that was unexpected.

It's the night bugs rasping out their Summer song all night long.