Last Day of Summer

Like when a man cries as he reads the obituary of the father he never met.   Is it some arbritrary reaction or an ordinary reflex?  Those easy to remember are harder to forget.  Some things are obvious.  Everything else is cliche.  Nothing more than a smile as a display of regret.  But I pray no one has to suffer on the last day of summer.

My life was better with you in it.  I never imagined it otherwise; even for a minute.  I loved you before I knew you.  God damnit, hallejuah.  

Like the smartest child in the room.  He asks why incessantly.  Intelligence is nothing but curiosity.  So, why God?  Why me?  Some people worship a dyslexic deity.  My God, hes almighty.  So, I'll wait my turn and grab a number.  It's always the last day of summer.

Time doesn't exist.  Clocks do.  That's the paradox in missing you. 

I look down.  Then I look up.  It's a year later.   I was just about to call you, says the procrastinator.  Some things never change.  Everything else is chaos.  I find it peculiar to be forgotten.  Like strangers caught in an awkward moment.   But I pause... it's only the last day of summer.

Like when a man wants to change and not be whom he has become.  He holds out his heart; ready to feed it to anyone.  Some things are sacred.  Everything else is taboo.   So, we count our blessings in anger.   God damnit, hallejuah.

And it's best to realize that we never will get younger.   It's always the last day of summer.