August Poem by charlie s

An empty parking lot in the city is rarer to find
than a day without you
But here it is
The sun was setting behind the building and the street lamps turned on like usual,
but without the buzz of people,
the occasional dispute over who cut off who while trying to leave before rush hour set in and you were stuck driving at 5 km/h towards the suburbs,
it seemed a little bit off.

Maybe it was just august,
the summer slump,
the drag of the last few days of warmth and unbearable humidity.
A time that people rather spend at home
in front of a fan or in the pool, trying to enjoy themselves,
not thinking about how these were the last days before they had to go back to work or school,
or how,
somehow,
another year had passed without any notable accomplishments
and how the cycle repeated itself every six months