the after down

The After Down

A summer breeze has swept the streets
     In upbeat funk and rhythm,
And shade cascades on storm cloud lace
     And brown-brick faced urban children.

Streetcar rattle taps out coded memories:
Shampooed hair on unmade beds—
     Unknown pillows in shadowy, bright nights,
Exhaust that lingers in wakes of cars
Stopped for the empty changing of lights,
A memory of you waiting—
     Passing through.

Do you remember me like I do?
     The ‘me’ that wasn’t true?
     —The empty heat that blew through you, leaving?
     The storm I awoke to in the calm, sleepless morning?
          —The rain that almost fell?