a poem a day for a year #215

by Amy Turn Sharp


the hottest summer record or not
people walk slowly through the streets
sheets soaked
the whole town aches
when you kiss each other
you stick like sap
you just become one
children stand on sidewalks like statues
with ice pops like cigars
if there is a soundtrack tattooed on the season
it is jazz
side stitched jazz
and we all improvise
we never want to cool down