Bad Air Conditioning
This tends to happen
in the beginning of every summer
mid-solstice, I took notice of, shivering
into the throw-blanket on my bed. It
doesn't even match the pillows, but I don't
mind. I'll catch myself with a book in
my hands; a journal; a sketchpad, doing
something with my fingers to keep busy
to keep my mind awake. I'm usually grounded
and phoneless, but I text friends on Skype
on my computer when I get the chance. Late
responses. I should know better. When school's out
I should be seeking that summer romance that
they are, smiling in the heat of this place
and drowning in crystalline cloudbursts
that will come at random and stench the air
with good tears. But I'm not. I'm stuck inside
while my parents are gone. Too grounded to
go anywhere. Can't talk to my friends even when
I can because they're too busy to text back
as fast as I do. I'll frown at the ceiling,
stare out at the wind tustling leaves on the evergreens
in the skinny sliver of woods outside my house,
in the backyard. It must feel heavenly outside
when my birthday is in three days. Too grounded
to celebrate the way I want to. To my dismay
I doubt my friends would want to celebrate either
because they'll all be gone somewhere-- North
Carolina, Florida, New York. And I'll just be here,
in my bed, AC too cold for a few hours,
pen and book in hand, waiting on someone to come home,
waiting on someone to text back when they
won't, most likely. This is how the summers are.