Late summertime

It’s the latter portion of summer where the days are still seemingly long and the heat that was so unusually distant for the past several months is now riding on coattails.The breeze still feels like being kissed all over and the sun burns your skin within ten minutes of exposure.
The UV is high, the season is long, my mind and my heart are buried deep within the snow of the Rockies.

My blood needs the warmth of these concrete footpaths, my eyes could do without the glare of the sun. Everything surrounding me seems reflective; the buildings, the river, strangers with spectacles and shiny jewellery.
I am constantly squinting.
I am a cold soul looking for the flame of another to keep me a-simmering, warm enough to function. I am lamenting the thought of another lonely summer night.

I won’t let your pilot light go out. I promise.

Sitting on the grass and it’s damp beneath me. My thighs are beginning to itch and I know I should get up to leave.

But I don’t.

I stay firm in my seat, my patch on the lawn in the city pregnant with concrete and glass.
I am in the background of tourists photographs. Happy, smiling families with their children squealing with laughter. Hearty, innocent, sincere laughter coming straight from the gut and I wonder how many pictures I am in the background of.
Who has seen my candid face?
I wonder if anyone has even noticed me at all or am I the only person to scan the background more vigorously than the foreground? I wonder if anyone has seen me and thought to themselves my-oh-my— what a beautiful woman. And I laugh to myself, I know the answer to my pondered, solitary thought.

Late summer in Australia feels like mid-summer full force.

Today it will be thirty-three, yesterday it was thirty and tomorrow is forecast to be thirty-two. I am melting like the wicked witch of the East, my blood is boiling, curdling, I’m turing sour.
See: spilled milk
See: untouched cereal
Rancid—Potent—Unfriendly
Next week we are promised rain and a dip in the mercury. Nineteen degrees, maybe fourteen, if I’m lucky.

Best take thorough stock of my winter wardrobe. I always looked better in a coat.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s