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Deborah Ager - Summer Nights

		Lamoni, Iowa

The factory siren tells workers time to go home
tells them the evening has begun.
When living with the tall man 

whom I didn't love, I would wander 
the streets, dreaming of Italy. 
Trekking the handful of avenues 

with him, he would say look there
between pink cobblestones,
there's manure like mortar. 

The sweet smell of it Wednesday nights,
the night before auction,
when the misery of cows greets me

heading home through town.
Lake quiets, tired of my lies. 
When will I tell truths again?

The siren. My love is home.
Nights, we stay in and X the days.

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Added: May 29 2004 | Viewed: 24245 times | Comments and analysis of Summer Nights by Deborah Ager Comments (14)

Summer Nights - Comments and Information

Poet: Deborah Ager
Poem: Summer Nights

Comment 14 of 14, added on April 1st, 2011 at 12:13 PM.
deborah

what are the most important thing about you

emily from United States
Comment 13 of 14, added on September 3rd, 2009 at 12:28 AM.

OMG!! Lamoni still has thursday auctions and it smells soooo bad that day...they paved over the bricks which was very sad...amish still all over though! the whistle still sounds at 7am 12 and 6pm!

Jillian from United States
Comment 12 of 14, added on March 7th, 2008 at 12:09 PM.

What on Earth? How does manure smell sweet???

melanie

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