A little summer poetry

About a week ago, I was seriously enjoying a white flesh peach outside, in my backyard, dripping all over, and I felt...inspired. There's something about eating a peach that always makes me feel poetic. They're soft and fleshy, sweet and summery, and somehow, sort of sexy, in a way. After finishing probably the most delicious peach I've ever eaten (seriously, it was like, dissolving in my mouth) I sat down at my computer, dug up my system's pathetic excuse for a word processing program, and here's what resulted:

summer peach

plump, juicy orb

the essence of summer

bursting out of your soft white flesh.

flesh, such a perfect word to describe

the way it feels on my tongue

torn apart by my teeth.

it seems so barbaric

ripping it away in shreds

to divulge the secret

the soft, sweet insides

that drip down my chin.

even my hands can't escape

as the renegade liquid

streaks down my arms

droplets racing to my elbows

leaving tracks behind

that reveal my addiction

to these plump, juicy orbs

of summer.

the dripping season

summer is the time

for being outside

because cleanup there is easiest.

popsicles, as they melt down the stick and onto your hand

drip onto the concrete

where they mix together

a corn syrup tie dye

washed away by droplets

from the sprinkler.

watermelon, that celebrity of summer

a guilt-free candy

that satisfies the sweet tooth

and your mother,

as long as you eat it outside

in the grass

bare feet mingling with the juice as it drips

and the seeds, fertility droplets

wanton capsules in a celibate garden.

even people can't help but drip

as they swim and sweat

ways to beat the heat

that make your skin wet

hair, thick and clumpy,

cool ropes that drip down your front

and back

keeping you damp

long after the rest of you has dried off.

finally, that drama queen

queen of everything, really

mother nature

has to participate

louder, stronger, and most forceful

are her summer storms

her clouds do not simply drip, no

these cumulonimbus champions

crash and flash, their torrential downpour

beating us all

in this inevitable summer endeavor.