Sour Cream Supper

It's summer
and the subject of
supper comes up.

I ask her if she wants
potatos and sour cream for supper.
There is cream, yes.

She tells me her father
used to like vegetables in cream
when she was young.

I say there was a name for that,
an old name, I can't recall it.
Nobody cares about those old names anymore.

I think of water.
Years ago in the heat
I would always have the hope of a submersion,

in waters murky or clear,
seeing light refracted away from the sun.
It's cool,

cool.
I don't let that
sentiment upset me.