Used up spiral notebooks
And all the words they held.
At home on the bedpost.
My swimming suit is neatly folded next to my summer shorts
In a drawer that’s barely used from September to May.
But somewhere in the middle of July, I’m bound to realize.
The science finds me as I explore the meadow and the grove.
The math returns as I count out change at the store and the farmer’s market.
The grammar is there and the vocabulary I learned, when I pick up that book that’s been waiting for summer and I fall asleep each night with the characters who live in the book on my bed stand.
And the religion has followed me home as well.
I realize over and over that I didn’t leave anything behind.
It is all right here.
Where I keep all the best things and they stay wrapped up in memories.
In that place where I…