The Songs of Summer
-N.O.E
A promenade in the New York City Sun is nothing without
The Songs of Summer.
How the horse hoof
Staccato taco…
Taco… taco…
And opposite the road the Chinese
Man plays the erhu
Oh how the strings sing
The Songs of Summer
Citibike bells and boombox
Infused with beehive
Drivetrains is the perfect
Intermission before sundown.
Is that a djembe jam I hear—
Underneath the peanut butter trees
Sandwiched between the diaphanous atmosphere
And the loitering Lae?
Oh, how they sing
The Songs of Summer.
The clamorous cluster of Bacchanal birds
Is the least of
Any New Yorker’s concern;
They swim, they strike
They soar with each other
And in merry tune
Sing the Song of the Summer.
Speak of me as I am—yours.
And should my voice turn mute in memory
May a mutiny of Medjook musk Blanket your forgetful brain;
And should past times pepperspray eyes
To Watermelon sorbet cries,
I will summon that
Inkfilled broomstick of mine—
Write ridiculous rhymes like
“Simple zine” and “pimple bean”
Or trace Twombly twirls
to the Systole and diastole of
Your beating heart,
In hopes that you smile
Through the screen.
