Nice out today says my neighbor

as I pass her on my walk to the lake.

Asphalt, freshly repaved, steams

like wild rice. It’s late September.

I shouldn’t feel happy. But I can’t help it.

It’s so warm. At the beach, four teens

race each other barefoot across the hot sand

and I hear one of them shout, pain is beautiful!

The sand should feel cool

under the tender crescents of their feet.

I check the shore for rocks and shards of plastic

as I walk. I mistake shards of plastic for rocks.