poemy

There is a small and beautiful fold in the world,
on a summer day under the Lyndale bridge
across Minnehaha Creek—
the sun globbing through the juicy maples.
We got cinnamon rolls and sunscreen
roped canoes to two best selling middle class 1990's Ford cars
and torpedoed into the lake at Hidden Beach.
Of course we got too much sun,
lost our phones in the water
peed our pants laughing. She was even late to work.
But I'm sure I have permanent lines around my smile
from just that one day.
And we got to gulp summer shandy from brown bottles
under the Lyndale bridge
with the sun globbing through juicy maples.