One night, while I waited for you
I sat in the midwest summer heat, hot and sticky
like juice from a sun-ripened peach-
a balcony in the city, a small temple amidst the headlights and occasional sweet, gasping breezes
the house was asleep, settling in its aged wooden bones
while I wrote you poetry on its back.
you never arrived, but I felt somehow better for it:
the warm and pulsing beauty of my silent night's watch.
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 12:50 AM UTC
One night, while I waited for you
I sat in the midwest summer heat, hot and sticky
like juice from a sun-ripened peach-
a balcony in the city, a small temple amidst the headlights and occasional sweet, gasping breezes
the house was asleep, settling in its aged wooden bones
while I wrote you poetry on its back.
you never arrived, but I felt somehow better for it:
the warm and pulsing beauty of my silent night's watch.
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