It’s the Day Before Our Birthday
A heel that’s ground down on a pedal,
some someone wearing a fragrant oil,
and with every rotation, there’s less of us.
It happens at the same rate a backpack
rubs just below a commuter’s hip, lifting
a shirt, so there’s skin in the sun.
Someone thinks to point evaporation out
but does not. There are folks and dudes
who binge-watch what this heat
is doing to everything, and you. Asphalt
blurs. Soda cans press and sweat on necks.
There are no mirrored or tinted lenses
to protect our eyes from the bright
bright bright that pins us down.
Adam Deutsch is the author of a full-length collection, Every Transmission, forthcoming from Fernwood Press in 2023. He has work recently in Poetry International, Thrush, Juked, AMP Magazine, Ping Pong, and Typo, and has a chapbook called Carry On (Elegies). He teaches in the English Department at Grossmont College and is the publisher of Cooper Dillon Books. He lives with his spouse and child in San Diego, CA. His work can also be found at AdamDeutsch.com