call it whatever you want

i've been seeing it in the Sea oats
and the south bound Sanderlings...
and just the other morning with the arrival of 

two Pied-billed Grebes
on the northern Currituck Sound

and today
i drive up 12, round the corner past the
cheap drink and sunset pushers,
out of the slow-life shopping district
and there it stands like a shiny new wagon on Christmas morning

 45 

MPH

.....i exhale the camel light
and the dust from a dying butterfly 

just smashed against the grill....
i think about the connection, briefly..
then let 'er rip!!!

even the speed limit signs tell the tale:
summer is on life support.
he's bloated, dehydrated,
cramping and spilling himself all over;
even through Tim-Buck II past the coffee shop
those signs stand emboldened and unwavering before the curves
which cause the tourists to smash their brakes,
they seem to scream now;
'GO HOME, BACK TO WORK,
BACK TO WORK AND TO WINTER'S SLUMBER, WE ARE DONE"
it's done.
there's a crisp northeast breeze blowing,
and as i cruise along at 49 in the ford
this summer is turning from aquamarine and
copper tone, to golden,
blue and wispy whites.

as the daddy's girls turn over coed in dormitory beds
and the lithe and vivacious joggers morph 
to just older people walking;
as the dying leaves put on the color and light show in the Appalachians
and the euro-trash kids still stain the Caribbean;
as the keg beer begins to flow and couches begin to burn
up and down the collegiate streets of our Nation,
the local movie theater marquee reads:

CLOSED FOR THE SEASON.

and as this slipping piece of nowhere
starts to root toward hibernation
i will sit by the phone in the office today
and try to explain to the thinning masses
how to drive from Waves
to Corolla.