No Jacket Needed

Succulent mango juice
  cascading down my chin,
a crystal opal glowing
  in the sun’s jealous glare.
 
Summer memories,
  seven months past
  four months forward
are teased in a Texas winter.
 
Stubborn in seeking that
  raw skin, oppressive curtain,
my car windows open exchanging
  hip hop bass for chilling breezes.
 
The grocery store clerk selling
  decadent sun-roasted hummus
cautions my short-sleeve obsession
  “Some shouldn’t be showing it all.”
 
Bird calls sing the flowers into bloom
  sending senses wild
  bees awakening the wind’s highway
new couples holding nervous hands.

For now, I hold this dripping seed
  dormant pregnant mother
and hesitantly I wipe this memory
  a single cold tear lost in a stained napkin.