Julys

to the excess,
coworkers
remind me
of chocolate shavings
laughing atop
a smudged glass
of cold almond milk.

one day,
ice cubes melt.

it was never your call,
nor was it mine.

but gracelessly,
they disappear

while milk and glass
noisily touch.

in sweltered haste,
hot commutes
persuade me
that black ironed blazers
elongating
cropped sweaters
with wide, elbowed holes

were never your call,
but always were they mine.

each day,
bad tans peel.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Julys

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s