Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Summer's Promise

Summer's Promise

I feel uninspired tonight.
Heavy … damp … flaccid.
I love summer. I do.
Summer makes the best promises …
and she keeps them on a whim.
I love summer. I do.
I love her challenging heat,
and tomatoes, corn, chilled watermelon,
bare feet, whirling fans, baking pavement and cool shade,
bicycle AC, open windows, clear aqua pools,
fireworks popping, children laughing in the street,
people spilling out of bars downtown,
summer flings.
I love summer. I do.

I just want the hair at the nape of my neck
to dry for a few minutes tonight …
or if not, I want to get completely drenched.
I want the thunder that’s grumbling in the distance
to man up and blow in with a chilly breeze,
send one electric goose bump up my arm.
It’s the waiting,
not the heat,  not the humidity, not the falling barometer,
but the waiting.
I want the lightning to crack,
tear the sky in a blinding rip.
I want the thunder to pound the air,
and cool rain to fling itself at my windows.
No more super-moon parlor tricks --
I want something to fucking happen.
I’m tired of waiting,
of the promise of summer solstice,
the rhythmic chant of the wild, sweaty goddess
who dances and flirts
and beats drums around fires of her own making.

Today I heard the whine of the first cicada
signaling the end of summer.
Too soon.
I’m waiting for something to happen now,
and I don’t mean the shit that’s been happening.
I want summer to keep her promise for once,
because she’s been unreliable the past few years:
moody, teasing, giving and taking away in the same goddamn minute,
and it will be another long year before she can fool me again.
I could never hate her for her capriciousness.
I love her too much.
But I want something back …
I’m not even sure what.

Something only summer can give.
Soon, I hope.


  1. Summer Ventures beckon call for high and away
    off into infinite seas of green and brown
    skies on fire
    I am as you were
    back when the old days were new
    youth was fragrant flowers
    in the lapels of school children
    distant dancers twined in darkness
    and lovers boxed in back seats discovered