When Summer’s Gone
Emalou King
He wears insulated gloves in the morning
Scrapes the frosted windshield of his car
Slides shivering across the cracked Leather seat
Then he pulls a woolen beanie down over his ears
Shaggy remnants of hair hang to his shoulders
Gray wisps like spiders frame his strong face
The chunk of metal sputters stalls once
Groans rise from the engine as dash lights flicker
He mutters Oh please God...not again, not today
He inches her down the icy driveway
Fitting perfectly into yesterday’s grooves
Pumps the brakes taps the gas pedal
At the drive through coffee shack
The steaming cup of jo slips, spills and soaks his pants
And... he longs for the damn hot days of summer
