14 august

and even if i had all the time piled up i wonder how i'd spin it out
of control and also in a stickysweet thin line unwinding into air
up there the sky spits sun into the dark and it's better to turn
away from the bright lights the big city the elegant electricity
turning on all the comers while the goers glide away into other maps
collapsing on certainty and shrinking like wrap to microwaved corn
skintight and perspiring ready to tent up to wet vegetable heat
steaming onto plates and into toothy gaps trapped by so many holders
rows upon rows and steady drips the butter as the salt falls in
waiting their turn though the naked kernels roughly do without
sweet as flavor summer by the field