Nothing but a dull thud echoing from my
empty brain-container. Gray matter has
mostly melted in the recent return of
high heat and humidity.
I've heard they're canceling Fall this year.
Gonna have two Summers instead.
Oh hell. Hell.
I don't remember asking for it.
Or making a deal and losing.
But, right now, it sure feels like I did a
whole big bunch of somethin' bad and
got caught. Some other life ago? Last year?
Am I channeling a really bad Beat poet?
Time for another glass of ice-water before bed.
I like to let it dribble down my neck and over
my chest and down my stomach.
Feels good with the fan blowing on me.
Sometimes the good feeling lasts long enough
to hook me up with the Sandman for the night.
Other sometimes the sticky air is heavier than a
wet sheet but it can't be thrown off, no matter how
much tossing and turning I do.
It's better, during those other sometimes, to just
lie very still and naked in front of the fan.