Dear Summer,
I'll miss you when I go. I'll miss the kisses and I love you's. I wish you could last forever. I wish we could jam at Jeffro's every Tuesday and play sold-out shows every Friday with free cases of beer waiting for us in a cooler on stage. And while you're playing, the rest of us will cram onto a couple steps in the wings to watch you. At least, I'll be watching you. And I wish we could party after every sold-out show until the sunrise of each following Saturday. But if we ever got sick of this, we'll just move to the mountains because that's where God is. We'll live there until we run out of toilet paper, and then we'll leave the mountain for the valley. But that won't be the same so we'll move back to St. Louis because the Midwest really is the best. And then we'll play shows again or do whatever we really want to do because it's summertime, and we've got nowhere to be.
-b
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