As I walk in sunshine,
And watch the many faces of an unnamed god,
Walk through these impertinent streets,
Filled with rapturous slang,
Scents of olive oil and melting steak
I turn around and remember,
The faces of those older summers,
In another place, another time, another age almost,
Faces I cared too less to value,
To kiss in my dreams and cherish over expensive scotch
I think of those faces,
And how each one of them,
Told a different story, a different drama,
An epic. Each one, waiting to be explored,
And yet I walked over those faces,
Trampled over them in the arrogance of my delight,
Soaked in the easy scents of mystique and reader’s delirium

The summer is young, the long summer,
And I lie in delight watching these figures pass me by
One side of me, swimming in endless ambitious dream,
The other in questions, scrabbling words and dabbling numbers
Two sides me, clashing beneath the August sunshine,
Battling for decision, for clarity in the middle of sinusoidal transparency

We ache to love, ache to know the insides of each other,
To look into each other’s eyes and know what makes us tick
You see, real compassion hides in vulgarity
In the deepest of intimacy, that each pair of living eyes,
Craves for.
But hey, we’re too lukewarm,
Too in diplomatic agreement with cowardice,
Settling for cheap handshakes,
And heartless salutations,
Greetings that never touch any soul,
Hellos and goodbyes that smell like socks;
Empty people, cruel people,
Funny? Well, who wouldn’t think so?

We need to touch more, look inside more,
To feel the heat that drives each other,
To sink ourselves in the passions of our neighbors,
To share in their delights, writhe in their pain,
We need indulgence to cure this comfortable world.
There’s no finding of that in our halls that demand courtesy,
In our homes that expect grooming and manners
No, we need wildness in our temples,
Of staplers, printers, and telephone harlotry
In our little rooms filled with the foul fragrances of formality
We need wildness, darling,
And we need it everywhere

People in the summer,
Our lives are longer than we have deemed them to be
Happier and blessed with more depth,
Than we choose to imagine
If you leave your eyes to rest in the ice,
You will never find the sun
You will leave your heartbeat to its cowardly convenience,
Your dreams in the hands of paltry soothsayers
And your eternal life in the claws of mortality

But you won’t let that happen, will you?

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