On a summer night in mid-July
the asphalt cools from the day’s baking
and a man recovers from a day that ends in y.
Legs crossed on the floor like when he was a kid
Window is ajar and the breeze is sweet mercy.
Mercy hard to come by
even in mid-July
if you live long enough.
Money
from my blood, my sweat, my crazy
deposited in the bank account
of somebody in another ZIP code
in the months I used to just chill back in the day.
Back in the day is what feels okay
Back in the day to make ‘em spend their pay
to make ‘em feel like they used to
before things got sinister and weird
and too damn expensive
and not worth it
back when it was all in front of ‘em
and lookin’ like a shiny kingdom of love and sugar