It’s summer, the second week of July,

and, of course, you’re not going anywhere.

Not with such sad music

gripping your stereo

and the humidity near

ninety-seven percent.

If you pay attention, someday

you’ll remember all of this

as a benchmark

for when your days were simple,

though melancholy,

when the world’s stubborn

disorder seemed to somehow

signify some higher

direction beyond us,

but still beautiful.

With tonight comes the realization

that you can love this world

regardless of so much tragedy

itching like a broken rash

across its skin.

Remember this, keep it close.

In the coming years that love

will be tested.

Oh my,

how it’ll be tested.