Summer on the Square

that time the man on the
cellphone
shouting tore us
out of a sweaty summer
not sleep
            and we fucked before climbing thru the window
(it felt more like a john hughes movie this way)
fan blowing old german grandma whispers
over the cotton poly blend stuck
to a 20 year
old
ass firm and damp
summer’s humid
air invigorated by cigarette smoke
            we don’t grow old here
 
we wake up and the stampede of history
mocks large pored babes
spending years at the neon bar
            an obsessive misfit
(christ wasn’t around yet)
sand grains between molars and
turmoil amongst morning
sweaters
 
back thru the pane
shudders under moist
weight but ultimately
presses our bodies
back to the monument
and beer breath
and synthesized blood
and the late train

 
 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sara Matson holds an MA in Literature from Northeastern Illinois University. She shares her Chicago apartment with her amazing husband and their three young boys, who all happen to be cats. Sara self-published her first chapbook, corporeal sin, in 2014. Her second chapbook, electric grandma, is forthcoming in spring 2018. Her work has been featured on her mother’s refrigerator and anthologized in university recycling bins from Chicago to Berlin.

 

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