131, SA or Dust

Part of the tree
Sways only in the summer
Under his weight
under his arms.
A toast to my friend!
A toast to summers with dust!
Without pretension
and hope
and expectation.
I won’t make up memories
even if the past is grey.
Bright yellow heels
Carolina sky
Sweet as an apple
Paul Simon and hiding away in the garage
That was our sea.
A Viking funeral in my backyard.