poetry by j matthew waters

summer of sixty-nine

so we were roaming out back at twilight
swigging orangeade and
swatting fireflies into oblivion with the
palms of our hands

someone from the inside yells
‘you leave them insects alone’
and we said
‘damn your eyes’
they got no place else to go

out in the open field
children run half naked
fearing for their lives
pretending to be fireflies
steering clear of predators
holding mason jars high

july two thousand eighteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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3 thoughts on “summer of sixty-nine

  1. “damn your eyes” (!) love this.

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