write this
emmer effer
a pretend genius broadsuction
some days are better than none
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Ethan Mok
Grade 9
Hunter College High School
Teacher: Nicole Cusick
That Summer Sun
You have a snapshot, a little
Crumpled sheet somewhere in your brain.
It’s what you always find
When you’re looking for something else
Under the bed and behind the sofa.
You read the date you
Scrawled on the back.
You see children on the front,
Cut through with white wrinkles,
Children who grew up
A long time ago.
Can you remember
What song the band played, the
Color of her shirt, where you
Took the photo?
Really remember: are you
There again right now?
Think:
The smell. Warm concrete and
Cotton from the dryer.
The crumbs dropping from the
Edge of the last cookie.
The oats heating in the air.
Can you see it now?
The sun came down too bright,
Everything through squinted eyes.
Can you see it now?
Didn’t you have fun?
Weren’t you happy, that
One summer day
When you
Danced together, and
When she pulled you away?
The clothes you wore were
Too hot for that summer
That day.
Both of you, balanced
On the sidewalk edge.
Shoes untied, but some
Magic of the heat keeps you
Rocking back and forth on the
Line between black and white.
Both arms wheeling in the air,
Both arms leaning on her shoulders.
Look up from her shoes,
She’s smiling at you!
Can’t stutter as the
Birthday boy.
You grew up; the
Manuscripts,
Stubby drawing pencils, and
Kindergarten doodles
Piled atop the photo.
But the child inside braved this
Grown up mess
To find the photo pinned beneath
A threadbare teddy and a set of trains.
And while you have a gallery of
Weddings and graduations,
The child has only one exhibit on display.
It isn’t fair,
Waiting, even if you
Say you aren’t
You “moved on”
But the child is
Still pining, still waiting for her and
Hoping beyond all hope
That his persistence will be rewarded.
And even if you refuse to listen,
You wait and hope along with him.
Shifting in a tight collar
And a tie; formal clothes
Not right for the child you
Wish you could be again.
Almost drowsy, then
Sweating in the sun.
Buy a slushy maybe?
Remember the taste and
The smell of that summer?
It’s melting now, reds and blues
On the pavement and your shoes.
The colors gone, just the
Sticky film.
You’re here now,
Slicked back hair and
Golden watch.
Eighty degrees
At half past noon.
In front of the
Asian dry cleaners and
The children’s park
(Look, the ice cream truck).
The smell of concrete and
Cotton from the dryer.
No cookie sharing today.
The roads still run, no
Crosswalk at the corner.
Balanced on the sidewalk:
A child with a suit, a watch
And a tie.
His saved up
Birthday wishes
And 11:11 dreams spent
For one more day
Of not knowing the path
Through school and work
For both of you.
One more day
In the drowsy heat’s half dream
The child falls asleep again.
You walk away.
And you make your own wish
To forget the summer dance,
And the smile beneath the sun.
Because you know what the child doesn’t
You know that
That summer sun is gone.
