When spring arrives in Binghamton
mid-summer

the grad students flee and run
frisbees

in the street, shouting avoiding
CARS

after dining Thai Thai or Taste Of
vindaloo

ghosted, dessert ice cream
Flavorburst

at sunset, brick walls decorated with
bubble tea

to fulminate the digester,
inebriate

asylum abandoned but not
forgotten,

they circle the building and follow
the lights

back to the rhythm of the living
town

the carousel spinning still in walking
distance.