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For a while I was secure, firmly fixed in the strength of summer:
On the beach I’d contemplate blue; in the mountains I had
Green to think about. But let’s face it: summer’s through,
That beauty queen’s been done. And though it’s early August
It’s August no less. A fat sun treading water, the palpable haze –
Those bell-bottoms are on their way out, another fad put to rout.
I see everything going the way of all things. The waxy leaves
Drooping like the Red Sox in the Series – poor trees,
Well it’s obvious they’re in need of a drink. Which reminds me –
How will I deceive myself, keep my spirits afloat? I know;
I’ll throw my weight behind fall, endorse its mellow colors,
Get me a pair of tree-trunk slacks and a pumpkin-orange sweater.
The frenzy will move indoors: a girl in a tight black turtleneck
Framed by the window, an elm’s gaunt hands frozen behind her.
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