Rigor Mortis

[s3]

Its not sunset 
   or the last leaves of autumn 
      or gentle into that good night no 
 no metaphor, not yet.

  Its high-noon, loud, summer, consider removing 'Its' from this and the following stanza. It feels a bit repetitive/serial in nature. 
         quick, and car exhaust. A little heavy on the commas, I think it breaks up the flow too much. consider removing comma after 'summer'
      Just a glance–downtown, 
  asphalt, opposite McDonalds, in the divider.

Its not sleep. Even from my distance 
I see its not sleep. Too stiff,
too much like driftwood, sun dried, petrified.  One too many 'too's, haha, in my opinion, though that may've been your goal
      Too much like wood
         on its way to stone, too quick. 

       And there's the women women or woman? only because singular 'back' in the next line threw me off. 
     back broke on grief 
   washing over his husk
crashed over and foaming 
nearly as loud 
as traffic. 

 really quite stunning, I love the set up and reveal and overall tone of the poem. I do think it could use either some paring down or beefing up depending on which way you want to take it but it stands on its own for sure.