Summerboy

I see him outside at night
with his thoughts tussled
by a honeysuckle wind
Throwing a baseball
on a 24 pt. vertical
trying to bludgeon answers out of the stars.
And the sky, in turn,
coughs the reflection of the
world into the boy’s eyes
And spills the dark dust
of a dead engine
down his young throat.
-Submitted anonymously

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