Dear Summer

So it’s official. With a beautiful day and a week ahead summer is finally here. Short sleeve’s are out. Shorts are out. Legs are out. Chests are bared. The city is full of life again, life where people aren’t walking 34 miles per hour to get to their train and out of the cold. White boys are talking about jumping off of cliffs and hitting the beach. Black people are screaming about not wanting to get darker than Akon and partying into the late night. My Spanish folks don’t give a fuck… they party all the time regardless, Sundown or sunup.

Road trips are being planned, vacations are being booked and everyone’s trying to get the next man one-upped with a destination that’s more exclusive, or one that’s fairly easy to get to but access to the extravagant parties with special guest lists.

By now you’ve lost hold of your wintertime cuff and are ready to embark upon slaying season. Endless hookups. New numbers. Black out bar nights. Expensive bar tabs, and waking up to hair clips and clothing left behind. Dear Summer, I know you gonna miss me.