I noticed you under August’s blue moon -- just a leaf shining red as a summer sunburn. The pretty woman who lives across the street saw me standing there and called out, "Can’t believe summer’s already over."
I nodded and smiled but didn’t reply. She went inside. I don’t know her name, though we’ve been neighbors for years. I wondered if she knew mine.
A morning fog made me shudder at the ghostly chill of it as it nestled into the Berkshires like a cat in the covers of my unmade bed. Its gloom followed me to work.
How dare you blaze so soon. Another summer of heartache come and gone, and now you mock me over the dalliance last Spring with the political lobbyist from Salisbury who, after meeting me over sushi at Bizen, invited me to her house for drinks, which led to more, for a couple of months anyway, before she packed up and moved to Sarasota.
You had just been born, al ready making promises that you couldn’t keep. Each time you happen to me all over again. Why do you do that?
I’ll need my coat soon.
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