Any Other Summer

The road out of the neighborhood
narrows from people parking in the street.
Newspapers rot in news slots
or on the soaking wet corners of driveways.
I’m too bored with the noise
and the light in my screen
to believe anything.

A big circular window with
a cross shaped frame
watches the length of the road
from its place in the middle
of the empty house
close to the corner.

They tell us the lights
in the sky are not
of this world,
making figure eight patterns
to frighten my neighbors and me.
The kids shoot off
bottle rockets
and drink warm soda
from recycled plastic
like it is any other summer.