The Only Time We Think of It Is When It’s No Longer There

On the blueprints, it’s a patio—not a playground, not a park.
No fountains here to quench the thirst between rounds of tag
or hopscotch. When one must drink, one goes upstairs, risks
being kept inside. And so, one chooses to live parched
and does this all the summer. Our generation sucked on ice,

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