it is August and it is cold
in the way thirty is old
when you are ten
or moreso
it is an air-conditioner on sunburned skin
but the summer as a whole
has been an illustration of an arsonist
with a bottomless pocket of strike-anywheres
and a happy hand of lighter fluid
standing beside the car he just stole
from his ex-girlfriend
who slept with his best friend
but it's cool now
1 comment:
Wait. This is funny. A funny poem, I like what you're doing.
Post a Comment