Late August

1:22 Am--my 4th beer and 10th consecutive cigarette


THE REST OF IT GOES HERE
Late August
Late August and I for one am ready for the cold rain.
Ready for philosophical cockroaches reclining in my sink
Do my unwashed dishes inspire fresh cosmologies for them?
If so I want to be credited as just one Muse among many.
My sweetheart starts school as the first leaf turns red.
I hold her till she snores then creep away for beer.
There’s a novel to never be finished which she never liked.
My friends will revolve about Autumn like cupcake moons.
I eat their love whole yet like gods they return to me again.
My jobs pin my soul to the landscape of now and hold me.
Memories weigh down the wings so I hop amidst the names.
Late August and I squint before the heart’s hieroglyphics.
Though I can’t interpret there’s consolation there.
The stars like girls silent before an eruption of giggles.