LA PETITE ZINE ISSUE #17, SUMMER JAWNS

Dear Readers,

Winos, tourists, and other up-and-coming NY poets:

http://www.overheardinnewyork.com/

Editor D

So that summer doesn't end in August, pack up these tiny suns in your beating breast and say:

Dear summer, I know you gon' miss me
For we been together like Nike Airs and crisp tees
S dots with polo fleeces
Purple label shit with the logo secret
Gimme couple years, shit I might just sneak in
A couple words and like peaches and herb
We'll be reunited and it feels so hood
Have the whole world saying "How you still so good?"

Editor J