Myles Taylor

THIS SUMMER HAS THE POTENTIAL TO BE MIRACULOUS 

which might just be the whiskey milkshake talking but the sky
is stupid with its sunset, the most universal symbol
of beauty. No human is too good to wax poetic
about an orangepink cloud. Not even the suited
and citied and sidewalked. You can't pass the Charles
in his new dress without smiling and missing your stop. 
So I'm a nature bitch now. I'm in a lover's quarrel
with the Prue. I've got eyes like a real man
& the stores close too early to catch me.
I walk past the fat dandelions on my way home
and don't even check what handmade structures
wound up penthouses for rats. 
I know like a hundred people with jackets
and most of them love me. My dad is always
sending me pictures of clouds so I send him
weird band names off the Allston streets 
and neither of us talk about feelings. A bug
liked the looks of my phone screen while I
wrote this. I told her she was looking
at the wrong kind of light.