Summer Dust

Summer‚ oh summer‚ why must you depart with such haste?

Summer dust hangs faint

in the air

beneath the roof

of this ramshackle car.

we breathe it in


because it belonged to faeries

before it belonged to

our cracked lips.

The tires roll around

circumventing lullabies

and bringing us straight to

the warm cotton darkness.

But even in my subaqueous dreams

the summer dust is there,

a thousand golden flecks


Each little part reflects the sun

that billows in the water

like mythos.

When I wake up I can see

the ever-changing world

outside the window

flashing by through diaphanous

sheets of summer dust.


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