The Tart Taste of Summer

We enunciate each word
like brackets that hold us up.

It’s almost November,
our time is necessarily brief,
Tan lines fade into deadly quiet.
You are off to another beach,
I am back to work. Clean breaks
heal quickest, please
don’t promise me a postcard.
This has been more meaningful
than you can imagine,
I wish you were less
of a stranger

but think of the money
we saved on the cake.

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