ALL FIVE
I hear your green glider squeak
I feel your foot push it back and forth on the porch
I see the sun shining on your toes,
painted with bright pink polish
I smell the sand clinging to your wet denim jeans
I taste your collard greens
I taste the fried okra your sweet H made in the kitchen
I smell that oxygen mask you needed for that smelly
Boot Camp
I see your trunk staring with eyes wide open
I feel the splash of the waves around your ankles
Most of all I hear your voice through that email:
{I’m whispering here} will you write a book?
