So I think the summer is slipping away. Like,
all of this was supposed to be The Summer. I mean,
it’s July, it takes forever for the sun to set, it’s always
hot as balls outside, like, mild levels of lightheadedness
when you get out of your car for more than four seconds,
yes, it’s Texas, and it’s summer. This
is summer. Summer’s about waking up an hour late
and forgetting the lip balm. It’s about
having no reason to put on the sunscreen. By the time I’m awake
the dew is already slipping off the grass blades.
Around the corner the owners of the bagel shop
have been up for hours, twisting the dough into
wheels. Are they going somewhere?
No. This is summer, where there are gas stations
but no road trips. It’s three hour
naps in the afternoon, not knowing
what it is you did that day, or the day before,
or the yesterday of the day before the day
you don’t know what you did that day. Because
this is summer, where every day is hot, and sunny,
but even if it wasn’t, it’d still be the same. It’s the same
Garamond on blue light screens, not flashing neon orange
arcades. It’s clocks, going around slow and fast and
all at once. It’s not following the laws of the light circles in the sky
as this circle goes in circles. It’s about waking up at 6pm
covered in sweat. It’s the same kind of woozy
feel in my head when I get up, like the floor is
slipping out from under my feet. Something’s
going away. Something’s already gone.