ode to the ac (a crappy poem)

above: local italian market pasta and pesto; no makeup saturdays with farmer's marker strawbs

considering that my last post was a photo of the snow, i felt that an abrupt transition was needed

you smell like sweat

we all do

my mind is set on zero

but that box on high

it sits in the window

like you once did

between the hot and the cold

always changing which space has what

you determine the heat outside

the heat inside

you can blow it in

or keep it out

we fall to our knees

begging for the glory you bring

you bring the humanity

so absent from earlier days

and despair as we walk on the ground

without you

a quiet hum that shuts everyone up

shuts us down

for we cannot sleep at night

without you

we can only quiet you down

shut you up

shut you off

as the window sill tips you into the road

with the push of my finger