They say you’re lingering longer this time around. Holding the heat in the bricks before the sun even touches the ground.

Everybody loves you
when you’re loud—
Heavy bass shaking the avenue
with the windows rolled down:

But I know your habits…

You give us forty-eight hours
to make a name or a dollar,
Then blow back through town
with a cold breeze tugging
at the back of the collar.

I saw you laughing on the corner
when the pavement was steaming,
Selling us dreams that only work
while we’re awake and not sleeping.

You made the nights feel endless,
made the dark look easy,
Now October’s pulling up and suddenly
everybody wants to look busy.

So go on, take your bow—
That summertime rush is over now.
Blow out the heat and snuff the spark,
I find my peace inside the dark,
and watch the season turn its arc.

Until next time…