Julie

15

Summer Unsung

She means for summer to remain unsung___
The corrugated angles of soft blown dreams,___
Fading into a rheumy-eyed forever.___

Summer is a poem with verses-___
A terminal case,___
The finite state swirling into infinity.___

She means for summer to never have come,___
It’s too punctual,___
And too quick-___
Poison laced, like the wire guillotine___
that severed so many bodies from their sanity.___
It is the gentle movements of a puppeteer,___
Until his pay is due,__
And stimulus unkept.__

Summer is a promise forgotten-___
Blackberry stained memories washing away in the wind,___
Child of Proteus, rising-__
Then falling-___
With her ideas dissipating into the abyss of some sea.___

She means for summer to burn bright,___
Hotter and hotter,___
With the frequency like that of infra red light-___
But quick to come-___
means quick to leave...___
Summer is dead to her,___
like all the people swimming in her dreams.___

Summer is lazy like an old dog,___
The mutt lying supine on scratchy pavement squares,___
Saliva dripping from sulfurous teeth that rot like candy-___
Tangerine suns setting into neverland.___

She means for summer to last,___
But it is the Venetian gondola floating into bittersweet blue waters,___
Taste of cantaloupe, dripping down her cotton shirt...___
Not even she can keep pretending.___

Summer is eternal nothingness,___
The journeys no Homer cares to immortalize,___
The poems unread,___
Tunes unsung,___
A nostalgia that isn’t meant to be,___
And a luxury she is terrified of losing.___