Coming In Hot

Late Night Summer Rush

I get a rush blowing in with the smell of cicadas acrid on my breath.
I get the sense summer is going. Belongs to different.
I get the impression I’ve lost it all already, and all we’re doing is
Countering. Call foul play.
Picking up my belly. Sharpening my scent. Offer him my cents, add up to nothing in the end.
I’ve wasted such a long time being rivulets of someone else’s sister. Playful in the crook. Rock me with your empties.
I don’t know how, and get the feeling there’s nobody to ask. Panic.
I used to wear my knees bare. I used to clear my throat. Hard.
Make a nuisance of myself, make me proud. Have you been, lately? Not here, not now.
Alice and the hare come combing down. Used to read me stories at the mouth of the cave, now my nose and me face toppling downside up.
How do you say, I seem to have made a mistake?

And how to tell, I’m more wandering spirit each day?
Frightened of the things taken from me, but more so, of those I willingly gave away.
Stub my nose in the ashtray. Smoking’s bad for you, I used to say.
Used to drive and chat up girls like you were counting, spinning on the nose of some…