Dirty minds
breed dirty scoundrels
in the baking summer
they stew and simmer.
I open my eyes in spring
and scream for my mother
while a dirty mouth breathes
the promise of next summer.
Would you bother
if I said I didn’t want this?
Would you save me
from backyards and gardens?
From barbeque fumes
and dehydration?
From sunburnt necks
and not enough ice cream?
Dirt is all you are
and all I’ll ever be,
sun helps the flowers grow
but winter lets them rest.
© Davey Cobb 2025 All Rights Reserved
Davey Cobb 