Summer’s Boy
Summer’s boy arrived today,
to check the air conditioning.
He was perfect in every way—
tall, tan, lean and blonde,
maybe 20. I wanted to swim in the sea
of his blue eyes, to rub against
him like a cat, to keep
him, a parrot a pet in a cage—
to make him mine. But, most of all
I wanted to be 20 again, filled with
the hopes such a man can bring.
Starting out life, instead of waiting
for its conclusion.
—Frank Adams
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Frank Adams is a Lambda Fellow in Poetry. His poems have appeared in Chelsea Station, Q Review, Down-go Sun, Glitterwolf, Cavalcade of Stars, Poetry for All, Poets Against War and Vox Poetica, and in anthologies including Between: New Gay Poetry and Kansas City Metropolitan Verse. He is the author of Mother Speaks Her Name and Love Remembered, both published by Wild Ocean Press, San Francisco, California.