Living among drawn out summer afternoons,
When the southern heat sticks to my skin and adds weight to my hair,
And the two pm sun seems almost promised to last forever.
Fixating on passing fancies that keep my mind at ease,
keep me floating long enough to forget what makes the time slow down
and the sun so pervasive.
Capricious tendencies leave me searching.
Searching for a home I’ve never known.
Home, which never seems stable,
Found in once vacant lots and in the beds of ones once loved.
Between midday winter walks when the sun shines,
Yet the cold front works harder and adds a certain nostalgic touch,
When worn shoes scuff cracked sidewalks.
When the only palpable sound is the steady hum of cicadas and crickets,
Collaborating to create a harmonious tune
That forms my earliest memories,
And perpetuates my most recent ones too.
Home nowadays exists between coffees at 5pm with friends from faraway places,
And late night conversations where vulnerability is nothing but expected.
But it also exists in solidarity,
In my own stream of consciousness.
The inner workings of a mind hopeful for something stable to keep me grounded,
And save me from a life condemned to intricacies.
A life where the only promise is the harsh reality of a relentless sun producing lackluster afternoons, yielding nothing short of desperate attempts at futility.
The search for a home leaves me searching for life,
ways to keep my feet on the ground,
and my cynical mind from calling it quits.
Hopeful to find anything that can keep my hand moving across a page,
And even more so anything that can replenish that spark that once existed so deeply between my heart and soul
Searching for a home that I can paint yellow
And leave the windows open all day,
letting the summer rays parade in
to dance with me all afternoon,
The ceiling fan keeping time.
when I’m tired I will lay on the hard wood floors,
And feel the sharp cool sting on my cheek.
I’ll bide my time
Counting cracks in the walls
And freckles on my skin,
Until the moon begins to take her reign
And 2 pm finally ends.
I’ll close the windows,
And thank the sun for her time.
I’ll take a front row seat
Thankful for the summer heat,
The one that sticks to my skin and adds weight to my hair.
Waiting for another summer afternoon
To open my windows again.