Heat and humidity is in no way
A preservative. It melts and boils,
Fries and burns. It sweats out your
Virility and drains your smile, drawing
It into a tired drawl of a smirk.
It pulls your skin into wrinkles,
Dragging down your energy with
It. The sun, bearing down until
You have to squint to see. Making
Spots on the insides of your eyelids.
The trees lining the long, flat
Highways bend with exhaustion.
Bowing down to the green grass
That surrounds them, soaking up
The heat and moisture. Alive.
The more you drive it, the heavier
Your eyes, the greater the weight of
The endless summer. The faster those
Who speed past, the slower you go,
Inching ever so slowly toward the end.
This was an escape route. A way to enjoy
The end. But it’s just an expedient that
Revels in slowing you down.