Poem by Bud Faust

 

Three times now and counting

It’s July again
already.
The Cubs are nine and a half
out of first.
The AC runs constant
and loud.
Sweat pours from pores
well into the evening,
then beyond.

Always trouble in summer.
Sleep deprivation and
cheese sandwiches.
The garbage men never showing up
when they’re supposed to.
The alarm clock sandpapers you awake
like the cackling of a pack-a-day
raggedy old lady.

Phone won’t stop ringing for
three more weeks.
A woman who says she’s my mother
and she’s terribly sorry the way
it all went down
and she understands the falsities
of forgiveness
and all she really wants to say
is, “Happy birthday.”

Always trouble in summer.
It’s driven me mad
three times now
and counting.

It’s ninety-seven in NOLA,
and if you don’t know where
NOLA is,
well, you’re probably a little
better off.
Ignorance is bliss
and NOLA just burns,
burns like the sting of a needle
going in
then coming out.

I have tried to fortify
against the assault.
I leave the windows unlocked
so that no one needs to
break them,
either coming in
or getting out.
I leave a cigarette lit
so I can find my way around the house
in complete darkness.
I have packed lunches for the
roaches and squirrels in the event
I disappear.

Always trouble in summer.
Worse now than ever.
I think I used to be a kid,
but I honestly don’t remember.
Maybe I used to be lots of things.
Maybe it was always this,
in one form
or another.

 

Photography © Steve Warren
Photography © Steve Warren

 

Bud Faust is a writer, poet and playwright from New Orleans, Louisiana.

Steve Warren’s interests are in the healing arts, poetry, photography, dance, the nutritional arts and much more. He is a peer specialist in the recovery movement.

 

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