Call it a peculiar sense of history
these few Dog Days of August
crazed and craved through the nights
alive in the aftermath
licking the hot elixir
of stirred emotion
sweat from the lips
off the girl still ill
walking with love
like a bullet proof vest
over her heart
out onto sidewalks
of hot for sex Tuesday
outlining streets
blank faces
of a thousand names
told in whispers
the sun burns mouthfuls
of screaming breaths you save
for the bar growing wild
accentuated with laughter
you smoke Marlboro Reds
shoot Johnny Walker Black
stain my sheets anything but white
forget your earrings
on my dresser
loose my number
on the way to the door
cover your mouth
on the long walk home
because this morning’s air
a thick haze of seclusion
tastes all too familiar
that September is unfolding
her love letters to the summer
yearning for just one more
flirtation with the voice of reason
liplock around the insecurity of normal
hold upon the face of loneliness eye to eye
because a year is a long time to wait
to be touched in only that way
that lives in the shadows of desire