I knelt down to grab some dirt,
warmed by the sun, and remembered
I forgot to switch my laundry over.
I continued,
through the teenage Friday night.
Beer cans, bottles, flannel.
The ground was moved
and gave away the spots
where the kids played.
A radio sat on a rock,
the plug dangling down.
I sat down on a small grassy patch
underneath the sun,
waiting for the radio to utter a tune,
And told myself,
Kelcey, dry your blue jeans.