Magic in July

Popsicles of orange juice
and drinking from the hose
a contest to hold our breath
arms scratched from fetching frisbees
from under mama’s rose
and the sun retired to oblige the fireflies
There’s magic in July

Your brother had a red corvette
he washed it every day
and we got sick on cigarettes
in the woods because our parents said
“Just go outside and play”
and building kites and sneaking wine at dinnertime
There’s magic in July

In the field the crickets call
and I wonder, can you hear it all?

On my desk, a photograph
from the day you went away
you’re standing in your uniform
all fuzzy cuz your hair is gone
it like it was any other day
and you’re smiling like those brand new bikes the day we both turned nine
There’s magic in July