In keeping with tradition here at Mainelyhome, here's John Updike's take on August. If you haven't gotten a copy, yet, I highly recommend A Child's Calendar - a beautifully illustrated book (by New Hampshire artist Trina Schart Hyman) which includes a monthly poem by Updike.
The sprinkler twirls.
The summer wanes.
The pavement wears
Popsicle stains.
The playground grass
Is worn to dust.
The weary swings
Creak, creak with rust.
The trees are bored
With being green.
Some people leave
The local scene
And go seaside
Bungalows
And take off nearly
All their clothes.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
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He kneels to comply. Annoyed at such ready compliance, which implies pleasure, she stiffens her feet and kicks so her toenails stab his cheek, dangerously near his eyes.He pins her ankles to continue his kissing. Slightly doughy, matronly ankles. Green veins on her insteps. Nice remembered locker room taste. Cheap vanilla.
ReplyDelete"Your tongue between my toes."http://postmoderndeconstructionmadhouse.blogspot.com/2013/10/tracking-john-updikes-foot-fetish-part-1.html#.UyN20T9dXxA