will you say to me when i’m gone;
your face has faded but lingers on
because light strikes a deal with each coming night,
oh.

summer is: ani difranco, beers on patios, lots of coffeshops and sweaty shows, gelato, picnics – passing afternoons. summer is the nost honest and uncomfortable time of year, a prelude to everything fall will offer us. to classes and professors and new boyfriends and girlfriends. a season of tea.

for now i am content to pass this season quietly, to not raise a fuss or fight too hard. summer can wash over us slowly, toes in the grass.

i am in love with summer and dizzy with deep affection for an ex-lover. once again it is butterflies and pontificating and feeling lucky when he lets me hold him on those rare nights. for once it is not about sex, but somehow the most intimate thing i’ve ever known.

i am blessed.