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Open the picnic basket; it has to be whicker. Soft cotton checkered cloth holds nostalgia: chips and potato salad, hot dogs, brownies, lemonade — no worries about gluten or carbs. Bird songs, distant human chatter, and children’s high-pitched gaming frenzy swirl with caressing fragrances of flowers, moist earth, a hint of bug spray over sweat. Plump bumble-bees busily fertilize. The magnetic blue sky is set off by textured clouds in the shapes of favorite stuffed animals. Time drifts lazily like fingers exploring the edge of a cooling pool. I want a man whose cologne smells like fresh-cut grass.

©Sara Schupack 2016

Sara Schupack writes blended genres and enjoys spicy food.

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