Midsummer:
The true July heat
Has not yet found its way
To the cracked city sidewalks.
The sweats I remember
From this time last year
May as well be imagined;
Or perhaps I have grown
Used to the exposure.
(The heaviest sheen of perspiration
Now comes from dancefloors,
Bedrooms, the exertion you know;
Do I fuck as well as I dance?
Find out, if you’re feeling lucky.)
I’ve dug my toes deep into the dirt
Of this city;
Now thoroughly entrenched in its throbbing pulse,
I follow the ebb and swell
Riding the rhythm, following the beat–
(It’s all who you know in this game.)
If I survive
The Longest Day
I’ll step off this track for a while;
I’ll follow some dreams
Instead of some fun
I shall reap opportunity
Rather than sowing distractions.
If I survive
This month of June
I’ll be clean for a month
And return to moderation thereafter.
If I survive
My second summer here
I will put an end to longing–
For there is lust within me
But also patience.
If I survive the first year
I will not stop
Taking chances.
If I survive
The Longest Day.