The basics of cooking
Knife skills first
Then, at some point
In the distant future
A distant future
We probably should have reached by now
We'd attempt...pie
To write poetry
To understand poetry
To just appreciate poetry
To climb hills
And mountains
And bikes
And ride mountain, you know, bikes
To hike
To stop smoking
To cut back on drinking
To let nails and hair grow
A little bit longer
To keep in touch
To do better
At keeping in touch
We promised that in an age
Of technology and effortless correspondence
Keeping in touch
Should be an easy task to master
And yet...
We made these promises
On beaches
At beach houses
At parties where the decorations
Were paper lanterns
And cardboard cartoon cut-outs
Of smiling suns
We made these promises in late July
In early August
During that perfect hour
That you only get in the summer
A lingering hour
I guess you could call it
When it seems like the sun's begging the moon
To stay up just a little bit longer
To see what'll happen
When the night finally begins
We promised things by writing them down
Sealing them in bottles
And throwing them into lakes
Not realizing that lakes freeze
When winter comes around
We promised through laughter
And so our promises were broken up
By our own happiness
We promised to visit
To work out
To become more assertive
To read more
To talk on the phone
To do things in person with people
Instead of just e-mailing them
To no longer fear getting on a plane
To stop thinking that five hours is a long drive
To not worry so much about money and time
We wrote all these things down
And then put them in a drawer
And forgot about them
So we could go outside
And chase each other around in the sand
And in the rain
And in that lingering hour
And now summer is...
Four months ago?
Just four months ago?
It seems like so much longer
Hours don't linger anymore
They are one thing or another
Day or Night
Long or Short
Harsh or Hazy
And we can't remember
Which drawer we put the promises in
And we can't remember
Why we were supposed to quit smoking
And we can't remember
The last time we spoke
Or wanted to speak
To each other
When summer left
It took so much with it
Perhaps it took our promises too
Perhaps it swept them up
Under its arms
And carried them off and away
Into a late, late August night
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