I told you winter would end

Everything is easier in the summer and I’m getting my legs waxed while smoking my first cigarette of the day.
Three women are laughing the slow,
sunburned, dizzy laughter of June.
The cheap pink strips of sticky wax leave strips down our legs and then we’re two women
rubbing oil down ourselves in the kitchen.
I say to one of them I like her like, it reminds me of home like,
I’m trying not to be crass or rude
Just say it!
No, but I mean…
Just say it!
Like the nice side of white trash.
She laughs and I laugh and I tell her of bathing toddlers in cut up oil cans and my aunts perming their hair on the step.
She tells me of building the emerald city in the living room out of green bottles.
It’s easy.
Easy like my strawberries are finally growing and everything we need is 99p at the corner shop,
except for the giant bottles of ice tea that are 1.39,
but worth every cold, sugary, sticky drop.
We smell like grass, olive oil and sun cream and it’s easy like this.
So easy.

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