While we play from morning until long after supper,
hotter than a million jalapenos, fire
keeps Dad away from home, he’s been gone all summer.
—
Fans whirl hot breezes, air blows cooler at the malls,
getting soaking wet is what we kids desire,
sick of kicking soccer balls, and those skateboard falls.
—
No one wants to drive us to a pool or the sea,
so, like Dad, I grab the hose and spray a shower;
we splash ourselves and fling mud to the sky and trees.
—
Mom sent friends home, ran my bath, rubber ducky floats.
I sink boats, melt soap that smells like Mom and flowers.
Bubbles gargle throat, hope my belly doesn’t bloat.
—
I’ll be in second grade, when we go back to school;
this year, I’ll do my work, and try not to be bad,
Mom will be glad, and I’ll be proud to see my Dad.
Elaine Anne Westheimer 
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