It's Still Life

The Summer of 1966

Another regimented summer,
idle hands (my mother warned),
so I was never idle for fear
the devil’d find me,
and for eight weeks I
whittled sticks, dipped matches
into wax, waterproofed them,
protected, and stored them
in Kodak film roll cases.
I sang to campfires that
breathed hotter than July heat,
drank bucketloads of
blood-warm water from the tap,
and made mosaics
from pinecone scales.
I hiked, I sang, ate sandwiches
soggy from pickles
and tomatoes and
not enough cheese,
I wore shorts and sunburnt
my knees. Got heat stroke,
and spent three weeks in bed.
The neighbour boy visited,
kept me company. I was 15.
That was the summer
the devil found me.

© Misky 2016, written for Poetic Bloomings: Summer School