Sticky Summers - Detroit circa 1957

I remember the metal sprinkler on our lawn, how the green hose snaked
across the grass to a spigot shaped like a windmill, how it rotated back
and forth, back and forth over Peace Roses and tomatoes along the fence,
how I ran through it on drizzly summer evenings, the air so humid
you could lug it around like berries in buckets.
I'd sneak out without sandals, dance on damp just- cut grass,
revel like a midsummer nymph in the warm mist,
bare my flat brown belly to the rain gods and twirl.