Summer on
The two of us standing outside
of a chain link fence. We’re staring
straight into the Hindu blue sky –
the underbelly of a bloated reptile
its soft, balloon gut and plastic scales
melted, molded into toy boats,
lollipop rings, baby bottles,
and heart valves.
Straight down the runway before us
planes carry travelers packed into seats
crates filled with parts of the plastic
no longer around us. Doll chunks.
Planes leap from the runway
as we raise our arms in the air, scream
jet fuel gassing our mottled skin
sucking the air straight from our hearts
scratching the universe
knocking us flat,
melting in the heat;
gum on sweltering summer cement.
