small town spring

by amy sharp


I would put my body on the ground. Watch the world go by. Tell myself lots of lies. I used to hate the way I made words sound. Now I just want to open my mouth and tell you all of them in alphabetical order. One at a time and we would flip over and tan our backs. We would pop beer cans and whistle at each other. The sun would touch everything. The heat would settle down the worry.