the summer you caught the sun pulling clichés out of its back pocket
the summer you saw what humbert sought in the eyes of his lo
the summer you realized the finality in what kerouac moaned about in his sleep
the summer your heartbeat went so fast you where in the ER for too many hours
the summer you untied boats from the dock thinking you where setting them all free,
but all they did was sink
the summer the hammock wouldn’t stop flipping over
the summer you disappeared into a toxic cloud of feral cats
the summer of unnecessary, but very necessary jealousies and mattresses made out of catharseses
the summer you discovered what substance abuse could escalate to
the summer of lorazepam and the brown ten cent bag that cradled around it
the summer you exposed so many rolls of 400 kodak black and white film, you had to create a burial sight
the summer of soft and lofty. pissed and dismissive
the summer you chewed on the sides of your tongue
the summer your desperate ass self-made oujai boards and pendulums to predict your future
the summer you hissed at the cicadas all the way to georgia
the summer you tried to keep an unorthodox relationship with strangers on the subway who stared at the floor
the summer the seagulls mocked you from the top of the water damn
the summer of nothing but pine trees and telephone wires
the summer you couldn’t speak so you use poetry as a substitute language
the summer of neologisms (burn burn burn)
the summer of short commercial breaks and lavender ice tea
the summer you yelled at your ceiling fan and cried into your pillow
the summer you discovered constellations in a city filled with light pollution
the summer where he texted you at 12 AM pleading you to be awake
the summer you felt it in your loins
the summer of imprints and a messy floor
the summer of wet sour patch kids and four silver jacks
the summer you watched him eat the earth then throw it up for saturn
the summer spent breaking in windows and chewing on the broken glass
the summer you became a foyer covered in victorian wallpaper
the summer at the tops of buildings that were never tall enough
the summer filled with a broken down car and a finger in your mouth
the summer your victorian wallpaper began to peel
the summer where he led you through local galleries soberly gripping your hands saying “slow down, why don’t you slow down” but later that evening in the back of his accord he gripped your waisted and prayed into your neck for you to go faster
the summer you filled hour glasses with every moment he ever gave you then relentlessly flipped them over trying to make all those moments happen again
the summer where you ridded every shelf in your local markets of their alphabet soup so you could spell his name on the medal of your rusting spoon
the summer he took you out of his profile pictures
the summer you went back on you ideals and almost ended it all
the summer of ‘where did all the sleep go’?
the summer he took the keys to your home and threw them into the river
the summer you became neglectful under the carpets of motel rooms
the summer you developed phantom limb syndrome where you sat in the passengers seat of hannah’s mercury grand marquis gripping your left thigh because you swore to every god in this damn universe his hand was there squeezing you like he use to
the summer you told me i meant the world to you then took a space craft to saturn
the summer’s spent in deflated life vests
the summer of amazon purchases and a broken doorbell
the summer your return policy expired
the summer you kept wanting to wash your hands
the summer of milky white lakes that seethe and warp the floorboards
the summer you were covered in sweat hauling it to hamilton new york, but you pulled over at at a gas station three hours to and threw up until you made yourself turn this damn car around to ohio
