Do anything 

Poor people hate the summer.
Anyway, I did. 

Rich, or richer people

have camps and lakes, and the beach; 

green and blue and sand and sunshine.

We had the flat-roof slum

surrounded by parking lots;

cement gray and toy-plastic orange.

Radio commercials splash and ricochet 
out of the concrete, yellow swimming pool 

old reruns and laugh tracks on TV always, 
muffled some by the cockroach mardi gras 
scratching greasy in the walls.

Do anything 

to get to the green and the blue 
and the sky.

And anything - everything - else.