a portrait of my shoes holding up better than I am

address book entry an entire page dedicated to how many times she has moved

a july pattern the recycled heat drifting in from the gulf

moving up a notch in the charts this week the crooning of cicadas

solar eclipse a lot farther south than any of my windows

reruns on tv sometimes the clink of the ice machine is our only conversation

a cool front never staying long enough to carry us through july

tired of seeing the bloodshot numbers of a digital clock going through the change

just like everyone else the fly takes off when it's time to do the dishes

the city's noise ordinance tonight's heavy rain clearly in violation