what I miss about summer

cherries
stinging saltwater eyes
peachy skin thirsting for cold aloe vera
the feeling of paddle pops melting down sweaty wrists
evenings arriving without goose pimples
incense hanging in the air without a wind to whisk it away
flowering pōhutukawa trees
red stamens blanketing your windshield
sitting under the warm fiery glow
spilling G&T over your copy of Wuthering Heights
hanging it up to dry on the clothesline
beside our t-shirts wet only around the tits
your face in the three o’clock sun
chocolate hair melting—dripping down your neck
nose stained pink—tiny lipstick kisses
freckles left spilt across your cheeks
til autumn came to pick them back up