Every day on this train station,
I stand and wait for confirmation.
She's standing on the other side,
and lets her hair out in a glide.

Shadows spilling on the platform,
wind is blowing in my face.
Number 23 incoming,
she is getting on the train.

And as I stand on this train station,
she turns around in confirmation.
The train doors close, I wave goodbye.
We'll see each other in no time.

The air feels nice, the station – empty,
next train is scheduled, one of many.
A windy summer afternoon,
it's cool, it's quiet, it goes too soon.

I sat upon a fashioned stump
Where birds and bugs all ducked and dived;
Stuck on the stump before a ****
And wondering which to hide.

A smear of veg before me spreads
As far as the mind can see;
And dazzling flowers all nod their heads,
And all of them smile at me.

Then the birds, the birds all sing their song,
And the rest can buzz and dance along,
So I know that really it can’t be long
‘Till everything’s smiling at me.

But the buzz and the song -
Oh, where had they gone?
And those flowers -
How they smiled at me!

I found her one day
Staring into the bright blue sky
With the eyes filled up
With a bottle rich in emeralds

Wondering why she’s looking at that
So beautifully and curiously today

I’ve been watching her from a balcony
For quite a long period—

I’ve noticed her for a while ~

With a notebook she carried
Every summer in her left hand
With a pencil she held  
In her right hand firmly

She was like a scholar of an academy

Never did she fail to flatter my heart
With every walk she takes

With her long golden strands spreading
Along with the warm breeze of summer

Holding her notebook in one hand—
Drawing of what her forest eyes tell

Truly the whole appearance in my eyes
Is breathtaking like viewing a night sky
With thousands of shiny sparkles

Never did I not learn about her name
Never did I not learn about her story

Such a mysterious angel
Only appeared when breezes bring warmth
To every corner of the entire world

Desires to learn more about you—
Desires to watch you nearly every second—

Grow every summer you showed up
Like a planted apple tree ~

Will you vanish this time too
—if this summer passes?

Where are you flying to
—if this summer passes through?

A glimpse of hope entered my mind
Whispering “She’ll come back in summer”

What if you won’t be coming back this time?

What if you will vanish like a summer breeze?

What if you will vanish for good this time?

Will I ever get a chance to know your name?

Will I ever have a chance to learn about you?

Will I ever make you fall in love with me?

Oh I wonder, I wonder, and I wonder

It’s stuffily. The heat’s compressing my temples.
There’s no place to go. Summer’s in power.
I can’t sleep at all. Insomnia’s hurting my eyes.
It’s like I won’t sleep until the early hours.

All windows are opened, but there’s no breeze.
Oh, how long this night is dragging on!
I remember you said “Bye” to me someday
And just went off somewhere, not cared on…

It’s stuffily. It’s sleepless. I want to drink.
My eyes are like two all-fired huge *****.
You thought I’d be crying and begging in tears.
And I’m so tired of you and your rancors…

"Happy Face Variety Store"
Has new owners,
From Punjab.

They are way friendly.

I was renting the movie
Far From the Madding Crowd.
Ben, the owner's son, said:
Many people are renting movies tonight!

Yeah, the dog day's of summer.

Explanations and examples ensued.
The change in season.
Replace old anxieties with new.
The surety of autumn expectations.
The heat swirling in the ceiling fans.
The setting sun on Lake Huron.
All the dog days.

And then  Ashna said:
Like the dog curling up to sleep.

They are way welcome.

The shuttlecock, served,
Goes over the net.
I'll probably lose
The dollar I bet.

Over the net
It goes back and forth:
It goes north to south,
And it goes south to north.

The birdie in flight
Flits like a sparrow.
She hits it so hard
It darts like an arrow.

I smack it as hard
As I can possibly smack it,
And, wouldn't you know it,
It's stuck in my racquet.

You relish the way I caress your flesh,
Kneading into your deep tissue,
Exfoliating with grit and ground remedies,
And brushing the cool, slick oils up and down your curves.

You share stories of saunas,
Describing how you enjoy the steamy sensation
As I lay you upon the rack, closing the hatch-
Infused with the aroma of oak and red cherry.

The enticing scent of your sweat fills the air
Creating a potpourri of aromas.
The sizzling of your songs tingle in my soul like a reverie,
captivating my senses.

Hours pass, and I, like a tempting man,
Brush your bronzed body to a tease,
Kissing with my nostrils to your sear marks.
As I feel your heat envelop my follicles, 
I’m consumed by a lustful desire.

Finally, I remove you from the iron-hot bed
And place you on the cleanest marble.
I stare at you, awestruck by your perfect brown and moist skin,
Dripping with juices succinctly.
You radiate such radiance, beauty, and temptation
That I can’t resist the urge to devour you.

“You’re smoking!” I exclaim, my hunger palpable.

The pond by your father's place always froze over
The ice always reaching no matter whether the weather was freezing or not.
The silence on either side of the window panes killed you, you said.
You told me the patterns on the glass reminded you of bleeding.

You used to have donkeys, and they always loved you.
Bringing them pears and soft touches behind ears.

I was a boy, still, but it all made sense.
The way that your mouth moved
when whispering memories to me.
I remember that Spring that we fell through the ice.
Jangled nerve endings felt stabbing. Cold knives.
Wet hair. Lucky to make it out.

The last time you saw me you told me, "You're bleeding..."
I smiled and spat once and said I was fine.
I'd tripped on your driveway whilst walking to see you
and busted my lips on your mailbox.
You wiped one ring finger, stilled my moving mouth.
It was only a little. (Blood, that is.)

You wiped it again on my shirt.
You ***!

I wish we'd drawn pictures in the snow with it.

The Winter has claimed me, I think, since then.
Blizzards well up in the corners of my eyes from time to time.
Snowbanks form on my brows when I furrow.
I furrow a lot now.

The wasps in the tree at the edge of your father's place
Stung up your back and neck that Summer. Remember?
Calamine smile, you had me pull out the stingers.
Your dad's debit card, wiped across your back.
"Declined," I said.
You laughed.
And the pond, in my memory, still looks iced over
Even though that was July.
Right after my birthday.

Last month, saw the sign, said your father had sold
          his place. Our place.
             He misses you too.

I wish you here now.

We're all getting old, but I can't let myself grow.
I'm not any smarter, I'm just clothed in cold
And I forgot how to feel the way we did then.

I'd like another plunge, through thin ice, I think.
Anyway, I hate the Summer time.
The heat's too mean.
You know that about me.

there was a time when tripping on asphalt
rewarded you a kiss to the broken skin,
a bandaid & a warm hug. the air
often smelled like rain & cut grass
after lunch in the cafeteria

and i always wore
a helmet and knee pads when
i went biking with dad. i felt funny
up until the moment i’d
squeezed my brake too hard
and fallen off my bike.

a thrilling game tag in the front yard under
orange skies of august was
soon quenched by a cold sip of caprisun.
dad sat on a lawn chair
grilling only what could be hot dogs,
meat patties, and bell peppers that i told him i
never really liked eating.

indigo blue only meant one thing:
a long day in the pool
clad in our arm floaties and
goggles and diving into the blue
like we would be doing this
forever & ever.

there was a time when i’d sit
on the pavement
wearing my ballerina sneakers,
watching how kids looked like ants
as they climbed onto the playground,
throwing woodchips at one another.

eating a bucketload of candy
was easier than eating dinner.
when the shadows grew at night
i’d leave the light on for too long
but watching superheroes
over a tub of ice cream was just the cure.
we’d build pillow forts &
take naps in them.

there was a time when the colors
were clear & bright, when movies
made everything feel like magic
and mom’s face was wrinkleless
and dad could stand in the garden for hours
and my brother was busy studying
and i only knew
summer & pillow forts