Summer of Sick, Vol. 2: Doin' Time

The enigma of August.
Season of dust and teenage arson.


The nightly whine of pickup trucks
bouncing through the sumac
beneath the Co-Operative power lines,
country and western booming from woofers
carved into the doors. A trace of smoke
when the wind shifts,
spun gravel rattling the fenders of cars,
the groan of clutch and transaxle,
pickup trucks, arriving at a friction point,
gunning from nowhere to nowhere.
The duets begin. A compact disc,
a single line of muted trumpet,
plays against the sirens
pursuing the smoke of grass fires.

-Greg Rappleye

Any good summer mixtape would be incomplete without one version of "Doin' Time."