the last feet of summer
run down the alley
full of scuffs and clicks and dusty screeches
they call out to me this taunting echo from
some long ago august when august was once
more than just a
month
i join the chase with brave intent
some passionate reminiscence of youthful ambition
fueling each of my strides as the girth of
my steps cry out desperately
wider and wider along the gravel pathway
muscles burning in a late afternoon sun
eyes stinging with frantic hope of unrequited reward
heart melancholy and lost somewhere
between the two
augusts and the realizing
i chase the last feet of summer each year
until october comes to town like
some dark hypnotic carnival and
makes me forget all
about them
©2012, Walter Tupelo
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