We came home on a tidal wave. It slowed and lapped our front porch;

It receded and then we made pancakes and called them puffy crepes.

We watched reruns of a broken down clown jobless at our carnival.

We made a documentary of my earthquakes and tsunamis.

We placed our feet on land and woke up at 3 am; the heat made us crazy.

We drank pear wine and sipped the air outside of weed and grass clippings.

We drank so thick that our noses turned into rivers and our lungs into ponds.

We left the dog days of summer into crisp red leaves and dry autumn suns.