Two people times

three cities or some countries

times three jobs plus possible internships

to the power of luck or fate coming our way

minus money and the car

and divided by the distance between us right now

equals a tent, sandwiches, fresh cut grass,

and us in the summertime. …Or the fall by then, you know…

And all of the sudden, all of them matter,

math always does, sure,

but not as much as having them prioritised,

because anything fleeting needs clarity on its place

in the family of things. And that, my friends, is secondary.

Love in the summertime first.

And always.