In the summertime, I buy peaches at the market.
Somewhere, the moon dreams of you.
In the evening, the waves draw a breath
and I think of the two cats on my block.

On the other phone line, you tell me that
you’ve thrifted some fruit shaped mugs.
There are five new mugs in our cabinet now.

When I return, your hair is cut short.
We drink lattes out of these mugs
and sleep in.

On the last day, before we both return to work,
I realize that there’s not enough time in the summer
to love you.