Pushing Forward

I imagine summer time as a collection
of moments where I would sit still,
watch his small fingers
work on a water color of race cars in the desert,
look at the way she cringed at the palm-eyed beast
from _Pan's Labyrinth_,
and see him set under the giant shade tree
waving to me in the breeze.

I'm reading dave eggers' _what is the what_ and perhaps you should too. He is kicking and screaming for us to hear him.