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The summer
ends with a
darkened sky at
seven o'clock.
Why am I always
so surprised?
The sky wants to
go inside, shut up
the windows early.
Stars are thrown
cold and milky,
unseen only by
city lights.
Time change visits
like an unwanted
house guest, remnant
of a pacific war,
overstaying its
insincere welcome.
Habits forced to change
as clocks are
stopped and shaken
grimaced at and abandoned.
And I'm given over
to a melancholy left
from a childhood
anticipating the torments
of a school year marked
with recesses alone.
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