A middle aged lady
rearranges her shadow
against a village wall
the day grows long
A far ridge line resembles
that of another planet
but no one sees it that way;
Kids ride skateboards
in the CVS parking lot
the sound is heinous–
abrasive, grating
a slaughter of serenity
And just like that
from broken yolk orange
to Sartre’s crepuscular grey
July 14 is gone–and the giddy
elated coffee people gather–
oblivious to the dark
in the ersatz light
of the corner Starbucks.