i start out brunch with a double *** and coke
and consider the three bottles of long aged scotch
in the back room on the bookshelf
waiting for my palate to mature

meadowlark song beyond the bedroom window
the grey curtains drawn but sunlight still leaks in
the whole place a weird cool haze
on a soon-too-hot summer morning

i wash socks in a small white tub meant for dishes
the laundromat could save so much time
but some strange weight overcomes me
some unspoken dread lingering

it's a cruel thing to admit
often what i miss most about you
are all the places i never actually kissed

the summer days leave me
dappled by the burning sun
the heat paws at me and sometimes
being this mess i am
i imagine it's simply you