make the fireflies dance...
the best thing about summer is the nights and not just the nights by the ocean, although those go without saying. But nights when the day has been unbearably hot and sluggish and still but the night brings something to life a little. Nights in my backyard with our large green umbrella blending with the sky and there are some stars and enough light from the house to see the smoke curling from the cigarettes of my wayward relatives as we lounge in chairs and i stretch out on a bench in a skirt unladylike and it makes me think of sweeter cigarettes of other wayward souls. It's an end to a job, an identity, a summer, and I know I will not be back for a good long while and that makes things better. Giggling over dirty jokes amidst the bamboo with my grandma and sneaking cheese with balsamic vinegar and olive oil and basil and i'm perpetually barefoot. I've been listening to brand new music and music from years back and thinking thinking. I don't know where I'm going and isn't that just how it always is at the end of summers? My mother calls us in for fried bananas with ice cream and there's tea to be had and there are suitcases still warm from the last time.