I got the hope of summertime in
my back pocket; a nickel worth of
dreams next to a half-eaten candy bar.
Fast cars and leather jackets. Long lines
and chrome from clouds of
mercury shimmer down the street.
The waves of Monterey scrawl out on
a wide sandy shore, whispering names
under a crescent moon.
Go ahead, talk to shadows. Loan an
dollar to a stranger. Find a bench in a
park and watch the pigeons conquer a
statue.
Crossroads never hold me back. It
forces a decision.
Roger Singer 