heat advisory

everything is heady and bright and hot and you’re in your room with the cat trying to consume mary shelley’s frankenstein and thinking about sex on your mother’s grave and you think about the form slumbering at your feet and how it’s strange that there is another living breathing thing with you in the room that has millions of complex processes going on and it’s almost too much to think about your own body not the outside but the inside- and then you think how strange it is that we walk and talk with each other while our hearts beat unsure unsure of themselves and we all have veins and they’re all working at the same time while we walk and talk and think with each other and maybe it’s just the heatwave but a little patience and all will be over but you have to think quickly quickly on your deathbed unless you’re like me and have had your last words picked out for ages and the books on hold at the library will be ready soon and you’re spending every moment thinking about them and you realize it’s not a hunger not like the one richard wright described it’s a lust for books not knowledge but books the pages paper letters ink all of it because wow those oxford commas taste amazing on your tongue so you never stop and the electric current makes you shiver and everything is hyperfocused the heat beneath your skirt the hairs on your skin the way your foot is curled unceremoniously underneath the way your heel digs into your thigh the way the sun hits the window the way your breath comes shallowly so you finally spread out and rest your head down and try to sleep and forget everything but your mind won’t be ignored for long so you turn over and draw your knees together and stretch without stretching and it satiates you, if only for a little while.