I can smell you
everywhere.

one block,
no headphones and
susurration of crickets somewhere
in a distance.

my stomach rushes.
it’s night,
in shorts and halter.
i’m nowhere near to
getting there
but it’s August
and I’m alone.
that’s a step,
I think.
being alone and
dropping the quarter
without notice
cuz I have a pocket full.

I think,
you have a pocket full
of quarters and you’re alone.
that’s really something
to have kept the townhome
also.

it’s August, 8:42 pm
and eighty one degrees
but dropping.

“August”