August, die she must

Summer is finally sinking in
The fat men are washing their camaros
And the kids are in love again
Walking with their hands in each other's pockets
And the winter salt is in the soil
And the swimming pool is gorged
Children frying in coconut oil
Lined up behind the diving board
And the sun is beginning to burn
So i'm thinking of you more
In your famous blue t-shirt
Through the sprinkler and out the door