I have been cowering, hands raised in prayer
to receive icy blessing from the air conditioning unit
The whirr of the sixteen dollar fan has blended into
the backdrop of silence in my bedroom
sitting just behind every song, spoken word, and note;
only by the fleeting cool of morning,
or in soft moments in the bend of the night
do I recall what noises sounded like
before the heat settled into these walls
and soaked the sidewalk with its heavy presence,
depressing Autumn’s chest,
winding the cool change straight from its lungs.
Passers-by drift, exhausted by the day
glowing with steady sheens of perspiration
while shop keepers shut their doors hoping the
fog like cloud of heat passes over their frames,
still luring patrons with “Come in! It’s cool inside,” signs
held in place on glass windows by melting blu-tac
stretched out like chewing gum stuck to the sole of a shoe
while the sixteen dollar fan whirrs on
stoic, emotionless in the corner as a soldier surveying his battle field
or a non-violent protester cross legged in the street.
Raise the blanched flag higher.
The buntings blow in the imagined breeze, which dries my eyes
and lulls me to sleep in wait for the cool change.