Packing up your truck with
Spongebob ice cream bars
and bomb pops until
there was hardly any room
for you, and no room for me.
You said it was summer
somewhere else now, and you
had to go where the weather
sent you. What are you,
a winged seed caught in
a perpetual breeze?
You told me caught is
what you were when you were
here with me. That was May
through September. Now
it’s November, and I wish
I could catch you again.