As They Imagine Us on Summer Nights

It had the makings of a calm 

summer— 

We lashed pink wings to our shoulders and pigeon carelessly into blue, let dessert beads brand our shirts, and the brown haze, thick like nana's cigs, laid vigorously on the town. 

I review nowadays like a memory or a fantasy or, more than likely a projectile stopped inside a body, as such things were typical among these individuals, as were alcohol and the common bad dreams of shots heard round the 'hood. 

Also, it was on a day much the same as the one preceding it or the one after or the ones to come that the occurrence happened. It was Sunday, the Lord's day, or it had been that morning, for the congregation wear was at that point hung, traded for pastel trunks and waffle cones dribbling chocolate ichor onto black-top. The kids experienced their dreams with sticks and soil and the grown-ups drank whatever filled their cups and later a gathering of high school young men ended up in a neighbor's pool when the night was more black than their skin. 

What's more, from that point onward, it gets fluffy, yet somewhere close to seeping into the sky and seeping into each other and seeping into the pool, shots were showered like senseless string and tissue was torn like confetti and their shouts were considered celebratory and none could say if their hands were tacky from chocolate or blood or even where the two became particular or then again if the pool or the young men were at fault for this tricky wreck thus we didn't discuss the occurrence and neither did they thus there was harmony. 

 ***

I ponder the young men now when the mist hangs low like a sweeping protecting the kids who stay accumulated among sludge and chocolate puddles, submerged in a world where dark bodies don't turn up face down in their neighbor's pool and search which is as it should be: 

God guaranteed them on his day. 

The water-dampened their fall. 

They all end up stopped in my throat, and I envision it's a ton like the sensation of suffocating. Yet, I know there's an explanation. There must be. 

I close my eyes and sit tight for one to flood my brain.