Last Day of Summer Vacation

The temperature is starting to drop and the fog is rolling in. It’s like a little seal on an envelope, the letter says, the party is over. We got a summer that wasn’t really ours, had no claim to, and now it’s over. I once again start leafing through the real estate guides for Kauai that perch with a cadre of periodicals on the toilet tank as bathroom reading materials and wonder when Ed is going to start fully realizing his white-male earning potential. I resolve to pluck the two, inch-long hairs growing out of the mole in the crook of my arm. I consider that it may not be September until with comfort I’ll once again be able to wear my new Mephisto sandles.