last days of summer —
patches of gray
in my five o’clock shadow

morning commute —
a middle-aged woman
keeps stepping on my shadow

lunar eclipse —
she’s forgotten
my name

moon almost full
a letter to my son
in Boot Camp

pink sky —
a telephone recording
asks for money

dog days —
I keep killing
the same mosquito

 

 

outdoor dining —
an adorable puppy
tied to a fence

 

 

photo by mmm
Portsmouth, NH

crowded train —
the conductor’s
tired apology

August chill —
a freight train
speeds by

waking from a deep sleep —
the conductor collects
all remaining tickets

for Josiah

summer fog —
the recruiter’s shiny new car
pulls up to the house

thunder without rain —
she brushes her hair
as if nobody’s watching

gibbous moon —
an empty pint of ice cream
in the freezer

August —
the dog’s breath
against my leg