First-rate minds
greet new ideas
with wonder and joy.

Second-rate minds
greet new ideas
with contempt and fear.

Third-rate minds
do not greet new ideas
at all.

Every Saturday night, the band downstairs
covered King for twenty-or-so retirees at the bar.
They held onto their drinks and memories
as they applauded the classics, their rings
and watches sounding like wind chimes
against frosted glasses.

Broken wing love birds smiled and laughed
with one another. The bartender cut limes
and dropped cherries as they rose a drunken
toast. *Here's to this moment, where we're
anything but old.

So far this isn't the beginning of summer
It's the beginning of hell.

I wonder
If you'll spend hours
Staring at your phone
Waiting for the reply
My friends told me not to send

I wonder
If you wanted
Something to make your beer soaked lips
Curl up into a smile
Something to warm your already
Over-heated heart
Or if maybe
You just wanted me to know

I wonder
If when I didn't respond
You went down the list
Of girls that might care
Unless that's what you were doing

I wonder
If your friends knew
The nameless ones I don't hear about
With whom you have a summer built bond
Strengthened by drinks of the same nature

I wonder
If you'll find a plastic placeholder
When sleeping alone
Becomes the loudest thought

I wonder
If you'll wish she was me