Queen Summer the First

On graduation day you put your saddle shoes away. You took a naked walk through the garden till you got to the pool. You had Vivaldi on steroids, Monet on cocaine. You’re not Mother Theresa. No need to explain. You smelt iron ore, limestone, and coke in your open-hearth heart. Staying true to your infidelities is a heritage art. Let us sit by the fire pit and burn some fat wood, Making jests while the gods are at play in the forest around us. Then I’ll sample your cocktail, while you’re sipping mine. You like my Jack Daniels. Your Pepsi tastes fine. I’m playing hooky in the Hollywood hills where aristocrats play, On the first wicked day of summer with Lana Del Rey.