The summer kills everything here
Somehow it didn’t kill my love for you
I wished it would have, but it didn’t
Somehow it still survived and
subsists to go with me into the Fall
the cells of my skin and my lungs
towards the winter closets
and the portals towards outerspace
So maybe the summer doesn’t kill
but it damn near did a good job
Dead grass. Dead grasshoppers.
Broken rocks and cracked asphalt.
Summer passes over the
landscapes of loss
So you become the road to Amarillo
in my heart