these are the days i rewire the scent of sunscreen.
it is no longer middle school summer camp
6 hour days festering with ice breakers,
costco wholesale snacks, and bead crafts.
we were some kind of cheap labor
folded inside-out and dipped in irony,
toiling through an organization’s
most cost-effective plan to
quell our adolescent energy with
gallons of Elmer’s glue and popsicle sticks
in activities strategically contrived to tout
brochure bullet points of ‘social development’,
implemented under the guise of enthusiasm by
college students looking to make a quick buck.
it was a best-seller in that necessary-evil market,
spawned from the petri dish of capitalism
as the lowest entropy solution to the
working parent’s perennial June-kids problem.
these are the days i spray on sunscreen
for my bike commute on open, unpaved trails.
i am seizing the scent for myself.
i hold no nostalgia for my time
as a prisoner of war.