Skunk summer. We called it that,
In summers past
When the night air wafted in
The honeysuckle, skunk-oil blend.

Not unpleasant, a biting
At the nose and mind,
Ignored
In pursuit
Of fireflies enough
To fill a hundred jars.

How simple then, lighting the night
With borrowed light,
Pretending life, a grander life
Than the one attained
From other hands.

But now the air-conditioner
Churns out the sudden, strong
Skunk smell--did we ever
Ignore it? And fireflies
Cause excited omment
By children--we don't notice them
That much.

And if I hadn't stepped out,
Thought of you
And skunk summer,
I might not have smiled
Through these tears
That make new.

Leslie P. Garcia
copyright 2003