late august, deep south
naps are long, the season yawns
immune system molts
mars ain't but 34 million miles away
the sun pounds on my door
the moon hangs out back while
venus orders a martini
with plenty of ice
and some northern lights
I'm dreaming of stars and toe rings
summer sweat binds me to the summer
cool air binds me to the future
here and now wins every time
I drink your wine, speed towards
tomorrow toasting yesterday
on the fulcrum of seasonchange
springing on summerfall
I've been though this before
I know what's needed
but lack sufficient funds




by the boy poet, by the boy poet, by the boy poet