Summer in the City
Summer in the City
Rooftop garden’s trickling spigot,
enough with time. The way men of an age
meander into a coffeeshop on a Tuesday
morning, puddling at the long table. Widowers. Together just to be
warm. Just to name the weather, wringing
hands in between sips. One says:
the best part of London
was seeing Greenwich.
The origins of time.
True zero.
Light breaks through the stained glass, the way it was meant to—
different on the other side.
When it gets above 75 degrees in Seattle, everyone goes on summer vacation, even if only for an afternoon. In the middle of a weekday, the streets are full of people walking, the cafes are full of people watching, every garage door doubling as a wall is hoisted high to create a porous city. Buildings become structures in the way that a courtyard is a structure. It makes me think of classic movies set in New York, like Do the Right Thing, where summer heat is a forcing hand into shared spaces.
A few years ago we found some old ammo crates and decided to use them as raised beds. (It got a poem shout back in 2021). Well, the other day, I tried to move one of them and the whole thing disintegrated at my touch. Poetic justice. Peace is a slow process.
With Gratitude,
Mason
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