Summer Nights

Summer Nights

July:
Distant voices shouting,
Gliding aeroplanes soaring high above,
The far-off hum of motor cars.
Intermittant noise and clean air.
Sometimes there is a rushing sound,
The pulse of the world;
Transport circulating
Like metallic blood in concrete veins and tarmac arteries.

I am near the centre.

Summer nights,
Just before August's heavy humid heat:
These are the epitome of unfulfilled longing and
Loneliness.
Half-baked dreams and unformed plans,
Things that I had little intention of doing
Hurry through my head
Whirling about and
Swirling about
In a frenzy of burning frustration,
Unrecognised for what they are:
Just dreams.

But still I scheme and plot,
Made greedy and desperate by
Time's panicky, crushing pressure.
Heavy, inexorable,
It would suffocate me if it could;
Always breathing down my neck.
Air, I need air.

Gazing across the valley
At the luminous, star-filled sky,
Diamonds on black velvet.
A spangled net of hopeless goals
And impossible destinations
I am nevertheless calmed.

At my open window
I inhale promises through dilated nostrils
Breathe in potential
Suck in prospects
Draw them into swelling, gorging lungs,
Unaware it will all come to nothing.
I am insensible to their false allure;
Perhaps Time spoke truer.




And suddenly it's
September:
The far-away sound of skittering wheels on
Sparking train tracks,
Trains heading off to London.
The thrumming sound of a moped
Speeding on its way home,
Tyres firmly grip the road.
Distant voices never get any nearer
However hard I listen:
I am still alone.

No traffic on the streets,
No blood in my cold veins,
The beat of life is silent.
A suburban desert,
Devoid of noise
Drained of all sounds, life;
Nothing.

These summer nights:
The epitome of unfulfilled longing and lonelines and
Dreams