Summer

This is not the time of consequences,
This is the time of freedom, of,

A carcinogenic elixir floating through the air;
of heat, of cigarettes, of fried food and beer
swirling together, spun with the odor of sweat
catching you in mid thought,
this is what is right, what is good.
The liver can wait for winter

Philosophy echoes in the bottom of a Barbeque,
fueled by the last drop of chardonnay
as light dwindles, oh so late
and a chill casts a shadow across you
Reminding you
This is too good to last.