Dog Days
The days slowly slumber in summer's liquid heat,
and flowers lie comatose in parched cracked beds,
as two bluejays squabble in bellicose tones
raging over baptism in a
twelve-dollar-ninety, nine-cent birdbath.
Duke naps in freshly dug dirt beneath
once green shrubs, with ears twitching
away pesky flies, and I, in manly khaki shorts,
and a Sooner T-shirt contemplate
tug-of-war with garden weeds, but opt
instead for a brew down at the bar.
Dampness feels like a gauzy veil on my face, and
I inhale the faint smell of tobacco
as if wafts through city crowds,
while loud notes leap boldly from apartment windows,
and steamy mirages waver, then disappear from
hot asphalt streets.
With shoes that slap my heels with each step,
I climb upon the barstool at Joe's, and order a draw
with my cap on backwards, I watch the game...
I am cool.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
