Early summer drowse by the swimming pool.
Wasps buzz by my feet.
Old puddles collected from a night's rain on the concrete.
Long yellow flowers stretch themselves in the sun.
A stately mailman, clad in blue and white,
walks from home to home.
A glass of lemonade with clear ice cubes
perspires on the end-table.
On a day like today, I find myself
slowly remembering things the way they once were,
when, as if from far away, the phone rings from the mainline.
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