the summer wind washes over me like a wave of hell yeah
intermediately interrupted by the rays of the blinding sun
the sun seems to warm the scent of juniper across the street and the wind carries it into my open window

I hold it inside tight like the ghost of a long gone friend, felt by their burial site on the same calendar date they died

I swear summer, I meant to write but winter's cold stare froze the bones in my fingers to the end of a cutting board in a row of cutting boards juxtapose to a bachelor's degree and a passion for laborious expressions

Summer, it's been to long