Summer's Simmer

Mostly it's the things we never get to say
On those still spring mornings
Flirting with a million fleeting thoughts
That haunt us through the day
The smile we almost give to strangers
As we turn away
Before we chance the possibility of cold rejection
Or interpretation of some sinister intention
We guess they might perceive
In the way we've always been so vulnerable at this time of the year
As if we've struggled with the dedication of the winter
And the raw rains of Spring that stayed in May too long
To remember how to let our guard down
When June comes rolling' round…
In Brooklyn I believe clairvoyants walk the streets
Disguised in uniforms and the old blue jeans
And mumble messages in luncheonettes
While waiting for their ham and eggs
For those of us who take the time to listen…
Often it's their anecdotal record to the counter man
Of a tragedy on Monday
That by Wednesday is turning quick to a joke,
And we catch our ourselves smiling
In the mirror on the wall
As we start to put the words together
In sentences that make us feel
Like summer after all.

Ken Siegelman
Brooklyn Poet Laureate