Summer swine

Summer has me
by the balls and all’s
it should be fun;
like they promised, like it used to be
when I was less grown up, less serious

But it’s all fucked up
and beers not near;
cold enough, the crowd not good enough
nor interesting enough, nor will be
maybe, ever

 
So as usually I talk, to myself
Invisibly devising in my head
that voice so comfortably mine
as is usual, for escaping thus
to all things;
events passed, events coming soon and far,
it all being relative and elastic

Like the time spent trimming
the hedge (when I had one)
and cutting through the cord
and tripping the whole house
out, But spending 20 mins rewiring
trimmer and those things – That could be mended

electric tape a good thing to have
in those days
But still when I think
of that great incompatibility
in personality, where wars and lines
were often crossed

Here when memory passes on to her
I still conclude – Only ‘a fuck you to’ will do
but only in my head, It is a ‘hi’ when in her person
after all she is still the mother of my children
She still has that good job to do
but for my part, I have been voted out
and gladly I go – let off easy

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