counterdependant

the crickets are still singing
and despite all Accomplishment
and the defection of the trees
and the geese, fleeing with nasal cries
it is still summer, you cannot tell me
otherwise, it has not let me go,
is lingering by the river like a hippy.
‘let’s take another dip,
it’s like this every year
they never let me finish
& in two months will be whining
about snowshovels, counting 
days like it’s a sport. 
they did this, 
complaining too much
about humidity. well, screw
them. it’s just you and I
and these watermelon seeds
like usual.
I said it last year and I’ll
say it again, 'till we're down
to the last cricket. ha! who needs 
them anyway.
​