Summer City by travis l. tate - Poems | Academy of American Poets

In my damp inseam, the weather creases low and smooth.

Summer City Add to anthology × Load audio player travis l. tate In my damp inseam, the weather creases low and smooth. Down the back and underneath the levy of legs. Tender is the escape of water & salt—I jury to this known monument. The camera washes the window, pushes the sheer orange curtain away. In effect, it creates this timeline. That I am currently a part of, like a lonely spider. It strikes. There are these exhausting trips from here to there: wasted time & the feeling that everything is just the way it’s supposed to be. You haven’t lived up to anything and You haven’t lived at

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