It was the summer of cucumber mosaic virus—

       // summer of fuzzy-edged insomnia //

// summer of creeping suicidal ideation //

 

Blistering temperatures, tears, treatments

were followed by the fall of misaligned incentives—

      // fall of restless legs and unrepentant souls //

// fall of cremation without burial //

 

Brutal, these times, temperaments, trajectories,

all led endlessly to yet one more—

      // another // 

// season of despair //

 

So, I simply stopped—

      // keeping //

// calendars //