Crashing Weddings in ‘07
Amanda Ramsey
The air only wanted
to be water that summer.
My hot blood turned me
into a pioneer woman,
a teen dream Laura Ingalls.
The Son had conceded
to a new sun, one equipped
With hot laser powers,
zapping everything into
grilled cheese sandwiches,
poor worms set to boil
on the white sidewalks.
Gone humid in the head,
we would disguise ourselves
as adults and indulge
in the glorious and great
Oxford wedding season.
We’d gulp down their Grey Goose
and lemonade, and let our
eyes grow large and tender
in the young summer night.
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