She is a popular girl, treasured and tolerated for superficial reasons.  She is beautiful, yes, and beauty lets you forgive what is really required of you.  Vain and stunning even I surrender sometimes but me I like best what others consider wrong; her gradients, her tears; her extremities, legs of dusk and morning neck, too long.    

She is warm but doesn’t care about you.  She is hot and doesn’t know you’re alive.  Girls want to be her.  They soak her up and boys want to be inside her they dive in, engulfed by her cooled or on top of her floating or just beside her, feeling her edge and trying to coax something out.   

She is pregnant, starting to show, never gives birth.  She changes her name before she grows old.  She has a terrible temper and destroys things but always she is absolved.  She smells good until she smells bad, perfume, too much perfume, then damp.  She is aging and that is why you miss her already even though.

She is used to being fawned and now you take her for granted. So Summer leaves, heading South to places where she has been loved by others then returns to you, younger than the last time you'd seen her.  It will seem like old times for awhile.  She’ll bring you things, things that seem rare even when they aren’t because she gave them to you.  

Locals move away from here, chasing her memory.