Seven Summers

The summer time I used to be twelve I don’t keep in mind
13 we drive the Continent, hit Chamonix
The summer time I’m fourteen return alone to Čechy
and miss a connection and ship herweeping by way of the night time, I simply couldn’t work the door
Summer season jobs the summer time I’m fifteen and up and down
the again roads on our bikes with Trisha Brown
Sixteen a household that is aware of how one can reside in Strasbourgremodels my French, a month sans significant change
The summer time I’m seventeen Eurailing hostel to hostel
with Magda known as Maggie, wow that Scottish one in a citadel
On daily basis the summer time I’m eighteen it rainsand crouch beneath eaves with Brontës in a plastic chair
The subsequent summer time a job in Bathtub, it’s golden
promoting hardbacks to strangers on their solution to the spring
I by no means go to Stratford-upon-Avon, I’m going to Weston-super-MareThis poem seems within the August 2025 print version.