Quarter to four a.m.
last night before summer
and all the lights are off
in the dorm room windows.
There's still chalk on the ground
from the latest political statement,
but the artists are asleep
and the last of the audience
will be gone soon.
 

Swing by Main Street .
See a man just inside the glass doors
of the pizza place
dragging his mop across the floor.
Stops to turn the sign
closing up shop
for the last time before summer.

 

Turn the corner
broken glass from a beer bottle
on the sidewalk.
The shards sparkle in the silence
lit by a streetlight
shining only for me
on this desolate street.
Pass by the frat house
with cigarette butts
and vomit on the lawn
telling of a party just ended.

 

Follow the moon
around another bend
and feel a warm breeze rush by.
There one second
gone the next.
Can't keep up.
Figure it's time for even me
to get some sleep.

 

Door creaks as I push it open
more as I swing it shut.
Navigate ‘round packed up boxes
in the dark
and follow the sound of Bob Dylan's voice
singin' softly on repeat.
Same music our parents listened to.
Find her asleep
doesn't stir until I sit down beside her.
Moans and I stroke her hair, before
taking off my shoes and turning off the CD.
I lie down there and hold her
like I won't see her again for months.