inversion

the roses bloomed in february

the icicles of halloween

dribbled off the palms

and bougainvillea

we shed our gloves and parkas,

and scampered through the sprinklers

kicking dandelions and picking

at clover leaves stuck to pale feet

we pooled our dimes and nickels

hoping for the truck that chimes

songs from another century

luring us with promises

of root beer popsicles

and fifty fifties.

muddy lizards crawled out

to glory on the sizzling rocks

as if it were july

instead of february

the labrador next door

was barking at balloons

and the kids were cackling

on their bikes. zooming.

up and down the street

til well past sunset when

the sleet began to sheet

the windshields and

the lion roared his way

back onto the calendar.