july’s train and freight

7/30/18 12:51AM

the end of a buffalo 

summer is rot inside of your rib cage slowly 

crawling over all the 

functions and grinding it to a halt

it’s a constant clattering and grinding

 of train wheels to halt, 

and then sporadically inching

 back and forth

until the rust is writhing in a pile below the wheels, 

where people swim and pick glass

it’s arresting and crumbling, beaming white hot desperation

 as you drive home at any hour of the night

ending buffalo summer is a cancerous lump being excised

right out of your eye socket and realizing  that your 

vision is healthy but halved

it’s loosening your shirt collar

as you try to make room in between your shirt

and your neck for a scarf

it’s wrinkled glory and health fairs

boozy crawling from one weekend

to the next 

august is when the sun brings out the dead