August, unnoticed
in the long lines out
mired in engine oil and mayonnaise
hidden beneath cheap buckets of sand
left to my own devices, I dance
on street corners for heavy metal roses and fat men
I share drinks sin verguenzas de olvidados
I learn the nuances of silence
how words can be left out to form
a more perfect skyline
and everything is in love in the absence of a witness
flies mating midair
squirrels and pigeons furiously chasing each other
force or yearning
too much or not enough
like the winds at the end of summer
on hungrier days, when the cool rains come
I ache and creak and groan like pregnant trees
I sink into the yellow wildflowers that smell of spiced pie crusts
I roll my tongue in yearning like honey
and mingle with the dry fallen leaves
falling, falling
like the winds at the end of summer
Bio: Irene Zimmerman has been writing and wandering in the moonlight for a very long time. She is both a native and continuing resident of Brooklyn, NY, where she works as a Licensed Real Estate Salesperson. Surprising as it may seem, Irene is completely in love with her career.
Other than being alone in the woods for days at a time, she enjoys American Football, Folktales, Potatoes and Tango.
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