Summer over by the tree
Standing half cocked like an old man's forgotten something
A little lost
"What are you doing hanging around?"
"Just thought I'd linger a bit."
"You aren't supposed to be here."
"I know, but what's the harm? I've seen September,
"But never have I seen October."
I pounced and brought him down with my hands around his neck.
He gargled his surprise. I quickly warmed to the task.
"Take your goddamned heat and your pressure," I gnashed,
"and your endless obligations and your thankless toil," I gnarled,
"and die once and for all you devilish goat-bastard motherfucker!"
When he lay still, dazed I untangled my hands, sat back on my heels,
And felt a burgeoning wave of remorse.
He dissolved in a small scirocco crackling with static and positive ions.
This made me feel even more agitated. How I'd yearned for him
In the glooms of January! How I'd hungered for his stories and
Laughter when the rain washed away the sun and the roads.
I got heavily to my feet and looked forward to cooler weather.
He'll be reincarnated, maybe next year, maybe the year after,
Maybe as spring or winter, or some bees,
Or an apple swingin on a tree.