Sundown

Closed circuits, cycles in places and seasons,

moments in time to live forever, escapes from the smell of cat piss and wet dog,

we didn’t freefall in each other’s eyes this time—would’ve been a base jump with a ripped rig.

Enough got broken the last time we got starry-eyed,

but

Oh,

those galaxies . . . .

I never felt so free, time ticking

counter-

clockwise,

slow,

so slow,

without cloying

like fast molasses.

Weaving the dreams into a

forest of our fantasies

makes me want to

push

the world

away

more often.

Sullen bastard pushes back.

Remember that end

of summer feeling?

Sometimes it sneaks in,

whispering September

in a breeze on a lake-

side beach in the brutal

heat of a July after-

noon with beer and other

refreshments, and the sun . . .

just for a moment, seems

to wink, Helios tipping

an invisible hat from his chariot

while Persephone dreams

of pomegranates.