Homo Sepia

no

summer's in the pitter-patter

of the idling Buick’s engine

in the time spent waiting

while the school clocks

inch closer to asymptotic June

we set our alarms for the long evenings

dipped in sunlight / for the late night

bonfires or a kiss on the porch

when night's crickets come closing in

for the laughter in the hammocks

drooping from the shady pines

and the whirr of the spokes

on the neighbor kids’ Schwinns

as they shoot around the corner

we set our alarms

and make our beds

in film canisters

till one day

June sneaks up

anticipation shrugs

we wake and we realize

that we've still got our watches set to ‘wait’

while Now’s Medusa snarls at us

in the rear-view mirror

we wonder at how far

we feel from the people in our photographs

when “Objects in Mirror are Closer than They Appear”

thus we stand

in the mind’s Gethsemane

(a dark-room furnished

for statues like ourselves)

and dread sets in

as the negatives kiss the light