Last Summer’s Flamingo

In June you stood so proud,

my pink and plastic queen.

The children rode your back,

the water crowned you clean.

Now August's almost done,

you're leaning to the side.

There's air still in your heart.

There's nowhere left to ride.

Fla-min-go, don't let go!

Fla-min-go, don't let go!

One more week, one more sunset,

one more slow, slow,

slow.

The pump is in the garage.

I could make you new.

But something in your crooked neck says summer's leaving too.

They fold you in October.

Everyone gets folded in October.