Love Summertime, Hollow Sunshine

Each human around me sweats Wears sunglasses Smacked by gusts A nesting couple hollows me, Two tawny, tiny twitterpates Ready for rainstorms, And I would be happy. But, this spring, I am still barren, Like the young man's eyes Across from me I see sitting in midnight blue Rising randomly observant riding shotgun Glancing blue at human beauty Asking aloud if hollow or healer Earbuds grind A slave to passion Looking for mirrored darkness In-between long pauses of reading Dead poets, Wishing for weather less crazy Possibilites Mouthing "Why did I let her in?" "What if I take my life tomorrow?" Vibes absorbent dancing Back-alley Wasteland. I rustle my dryness fervently-- Dissuasion?-- When the next gust sweeps this asphalt lot, My home. He notices, Eyes fully scoped Blue iris majesty, "Why didn't I care when she died?" he asks me or maybe it's a question for my arms. "Love summertime, hollow sunshine," And the sky of half-sun weeps neither bitterness nor solace. Together we would love An oasis for the coming summer Another real one Doesn't wear sunglasses Shading intentions unnatural, Prone giftings pure fire No human nor tree Ever since has seen. The young man's family returns. The car starts. The rain spreads to another heart In Jersey; tawny twains uprooting sanity. I part with this man I've only seen once before Wishing I'd spoken something Besides "Soul firewood."