city, end of summer

Sweat pinpricked through shirts
drops collected, slid down our spines.

A bus heaved from the curb
engine whine pitched to a scream
and we winced, muttered curses at the annoyance.

Across the mall two mirrored doors separated
silently ushered a couple outside 
on a surge of refrigerated air.

With cool skin and colder eyes
they each wore white and khaki
a bag looped through one finger lightly
as if she’d bought nothing at all.

I went to make a cutting joke but
a rush of hot air whipped hair; sent butts and bits of paper
tumbling over and under our shoes.
 

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With apologies/in tribute to Kerry, who’s the one who actually knows how to write this kind of shit.

4 Responses to “city, end of summer”

  1. “…a bag looped through one finger lightly
    as if she’d bought nothing at all.”

    Yup. I can so see it.

  2. This reminds me that summer is coming here, not leaving.

  3. Will you and Kerry write some damn books already? I love you both. Now please get published.

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