All today the sky has been 
a softening gray, so passive
the sun in retrospect seems
harsh–

by the evening commute
the far bridge was lace 
against lush, lights of
distant cities floating
like everything,

like a mirage hovers,
but real, when nothing
else was, or at least
is as good as forgotten– 

we all swim home,
starting to think of going
to bed early, getting out
from under this blanket
of humidity, going from
dream state

to dream state, slippery
places, hard to grasp but
easy enough to inhabit,
especially if you’ve
been here for a while.