your monkey called

"When that lemonade stand sits in the middle of lazy games of tag, carefree laughter and flashes of stained gingham and sun-bleached hair, no passing neighbor will be able to resist. That sweating pitcher will glow with innocence and optimism. With youth. Any man’d be glad to buy a glass and just stand there, wiping the taste of an endless summer afternoon from his lips. Hell, he’d buy four."