summer things

that familiar summer stick - clammy and wonderfully uncomfortable

lime in my drink
ice in my coffee
freckling in my skin
salt sticking through my hair
slightly-too-low handlebars
splutter of a lawn sprinkler
fresh-beige skin navigating beached trees
shy smiles from strangers
paved upside-down U bridges between small islands
sand in the ends of my canvas flats
sticky strawberry juice all down my left leg (clumsiness)
dark, swum patched in my shorts
click-click-clack cycling over uneven wooden boardwalk
purple daisies in red-spice hair
an extra two inches of heat above shelled surfaces
change in a different currency to the one you paid in
quiet creeping of watery edge
a platter of languages in my ears
small cottages apart of large cities
photographs of morphing faces
some sort of elusive knowing

for all of these sought-after habits
I will forfeit familiarity, convenience and my un-home