Summer isn’t over yet, yet it feels as if it is, different,
we brainwashed into back to school nonsense from when we were kids, and so must
live with this fleeting sense, as I stand down near where the river flows and
the churned up surface made by passing ferries, ferries rushing from this side
to the city that never sleeps on the far side, where the skyline rises, like
jagged vampire teeth, the sun – this late in the day – sparkling off the windows,
fire-like, blinding, as I cling to the remaining warmth in anticipation of
oncoming chill, this near where her street meets the overlook, and I imagine
her coming here to stare out at the river as I do, but up top, not down below where
I am now, and I think if I look up I might catch a glimpse of her as she
admires the river, the skyline, and the glinting glass, and wonder if she feels
summer slipping away, time passing with each incoming and outgoing tide, with
the chaos of the ferries, with the darkness that comes when the sun finally succumbs,
and falls too far behind the cliffs to give us any glint of glass
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