a bubbling pot
of gumbo
does little to
ease the sorrow
of a final sunday
before school
inexplicably
begins again

the dying hours
of a final weekend
none of us
wants to end

summer vacation
went by far
too quickly
our weeks together
a blur of joy
before being
relegated to
four days a month
once more

and i already feel
the solitude
as it bears down
the itchy robe of
lady depression
as she embraces
the fractured fool