Blue buffeting those old wet bricks,
cars rumble over cobblestones
too slippery for walking
when the chestnuts shed their leaves.
Night falls, burdens lighten for some,
the daytime world is squirreled away,
protected until sunrise.
Those unfrightened of the dark may
wander, read, dance, play, fight, drink,
and hope their eyes adjust, or risk
the quicksand of nostalgia.
If the song’s not right, the perfume
floating on a summer breath—jasmine,
sweat, a baby-soft trainwreck of scent
—might lure the unfortunate into their
own sweet mysteries, tangled as kudzu
in the trees that line the roads back home.
(c) 2018, by Hannah Six
Image: Skeeze/Pixabay
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