The Last Summer Tape

To you, pressing play,

Welcome to the Storm Post Office. 1990: a navy envelope whose title is set in slanted brush capitals like the box of a video cassette. A muted sage-and-lavender screenprint turns out to be a map of the lake; an orange-red cassette index sticker, a film-frame view of the shore, and delicate dots of fireflies complete it. Under it all runs the soft hiss of tape, worn exactly enough.

One sonnet complains that summer never stays long enough: “And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.” — William Shakespeare, Sonnet 18 (1609)

That summer was recorded onto tape, and when it plays it still jumps, fades and stretches. Perhaps summer’s lease really is too short, but if you are watching it, it is still happening. If you want to write your own summer to us, write it slowly; we will treat it like the last tape on the shelf.

May summer stay inside the frame

Storm Post Office

1990 · Green Lake

P.S. Please be kind and rewind.