July In June
As it appeared in The Initial Journal vol. 1 no.1, August 2020.
Feels like July in June –
The nights quiet and dry,
Crushes blooming at scouts camp,
Engines purring in Alberta,
Street lights coming alive while you sleep.
July in June’s when I forget the sounds of winter
And hear crickets yelling so loud at each other.
A lonesome cabin in the woods
Away from concrete walls of my dorm room.
The smell of steak in the yard, or that of piss
In a resort. The heat is bliss.
It’s unseeing today’s discrepancies
And seeing them on August twelfth.
It’s not Brooklyn if you’re hiking.
Could be Louisville in November. Could be San Fran in rush hour.
This is time, so, slow, folding into the
La La Lands I wish to go.