Opening the windows during the day and finding the air outside cooler than the air within...
In the summer, the day the heat broke was the worst day of all.
I felt like crying when the dust from the ground wasn't even in love enough to stick to where it belonged; those tears would have made their existence more cohesive, and not sent so many motes of dust up into the atmosphere to cover the automobiles nearby with a thin layer of dust and a canvas for a fingerbrushing graffitist...
The air was so dry that at night there was no dew for the dewpoint to release. Stars and planets and the unsilvered sattelite rotated in gear-ish synchronization; the cat's fur was cool and smooth to the touch. A temperature of 58 degrees farenheit, and nowhere to go with it...
The crops outside town are included in that federal aid coming to the rescue of the small farmer, who would have been helped more by rain dances and more of those characteristic thunderclouds or even a good ol' biblical flood. The stunted corn and yellow tobacco leaves make me glad and leave me staring at the same time, make me wonder what will happen to this region if I quit it for good and what I will not notice when I return--a few corporate signs more, fewer locally owned businesses, enlarged roads, painted curbs, that damned word, progress. I wonder how long we can keep up business as usual, and why I use the word "we" after disjointing myself from my community in maldirected contempt...
Shorts are not enough, nor a shirt; these were regularly too much, and now they leave me with goosebumps; breezes after dark bring some of that darkness upon you, and the thought of that alone makes you colder...
The heat wave made things seem continuous. A long long time until the future was to take effect, the future being now and tomorrow and maybe next week, nobody really believing in two months hence or even that much in a week and three days, yesterday being two hours ago and five minutes and last month, oh I don't know when exactly but about then, it seems like it just happened. This change in temperature has once again made it evident that time passes while you wait for your future.
Deceptive, beautiful, roasting summer. When you end, mourning takes place, as for death, and when you put yourself in the hearts of people again in the true belief of your resurrection, all decorate and wait for you to come in order to celebrate the continuousness of life. But when you seem to burn out too soon, you cut short your promises, and make us glance at our calenders in disbelief; we begin to distrust you for being such a heartless season. Every season has its thorn; yours is in the dark underbelly of the break in the heat wave, which promised in rotting sweetness the immortality living things seem to crave....