All across the city, the lonely people share a dream about foxes…

We’re all drinking Founder’s Double Trouble IPA.

The foxes are dancing through a forest, carrying
rice paper umbrellas.

There’s a bluegrass band on stage, the fiddle
and mandolin players

trade lead breaks on ‘The Black Mountain Rag.’

I’m convinced that I crave salt because I’m dying.

The umbrellas dissolve when they’re kissed by the peach
blossom petals

falling around them like summer rain.

The band launches into the Grateful Dead’s
‘Sugar Magnolia,’

then a long jam on ‘Going Down the Road Feeling Bad.’

At one of the sidewalk tables, July sits tapping
her feet and smiling,

skinned knees and larkspur braided into her hair.