A Poem by Chad W. Lutz

 

Summer Sore 

 

Shriek bang! Shriek bang!

 

A few persons clap.

Children chase each other in stir-crazy games of tag

under a mid-summer drizzle.

 

Shriek bang!

A couple of the kids stop to watch

and then continue their merciless quest of tagging each other “it.”

           

A young writer, alone,

leans against a public restroom; cold beer

warming in his left hand with his other in his pocket.

 

He’s beginning to feel a little inebriated,

perhaps a bit too drunk.

 

His legs begin to numb, finally.

The previous days' runs through the Smokies,

up and over Rich Mountain through a series of storms and bridle trails,

still reminding him with each leaden step.

 

His clothes are still drying on the line.

A mist sees to it they won't.

But the night is clearing.

His legs are numbing.

 

He flexes his quads,

and then his hamstrings,

gives them both a rub,

and then returns to nursing

his beer and gazing up

at the free show of

pop and sizzle

against the

backdrop

of the

evening.

It feels good. Perhaps it will last, despite the ebb of seasons.

 

 

 

Chad W. Lutz was born in 1986 in Akron, Ohio, and raised in the neighboring suburb of Stow. His works have been featured in Diverse Voices Quarterly, The Dying Goose, Haunted Waters Press, and prominently on AltOhio.com, of which he serves managing editor. Chad currently works in North Canton writing web content for an online job resource website. An avid athlete, Chad runs competitively for a Northeast Ohio running club and swims in his spare time. He aspires to run the Olympic marathon at the 2016 games.