Those summer days

The Solstar shines on,
and I fall before his influence.

The heavy heat
knocks me to my knees.
I struggle to stand,
but cannot quite make it.

They call them
“The dog days of summer”
because even the hounds hide
beneath the boughs of trees.

I am a devotee of the dark,
and spend my sunlit hours
contemplating air conditioning
in cool, quiet places.

And so I wait for winter,
sunburned and sweat-stained,
counting the calendar days
until the temperature
chills the fuck out.

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