yesterday’s breeze
a beachcomber faded blue
memories of Emily I recall
too beautiful that summer
in Kaboo’s old Chevrolet
dancing shoes and give me some time
she loved Fogelberg netherlands
souvenirs part of the plan
heat waving boardwalks and sand in sandals
shared sno-cones and all things turquoise beaded
I thought her lips were sadly luscious
puffed and peppermint-wet delicious
so necessarily hers so readily there
I would sometimes catch her peeking
though my eyes were always closed
(but then how could they be)
she of gorgeous aroma and scented oil
sadly I’d leave wanting more never less and less
then September the month that brings endings

September always rolls around

Chagall 1977/2020