Picnic

The green of the melon
is of summer
and the summer ice

where whales in green water
can sound
and lions glide
more agile and graceful
than fish.

I have greased the slide
as well as I can
with waxed paper.

The greenish light
that infiltrates like algae
the sea
circumvents the trees,
slipping over
and under
green barriers.

I have come to stand
at the bottom
and hold out my hands
to a sliding girl.

Green light
puts a sheen like gun metal
and on her sweat damp
curls.