Summer Time Blues

Summer rubs me the wrong way

like two sticks rubbed together creating friction & heat.

Or when I rub the cat's fur the wrong direction

sticking up in an angry arch,

as just like the cat I scratch at the door to go out,

but immediately want in again.

The hot exhalations of the desert sun

feels like the devil's breath on my cheek.

A taunting, teasing, you can't go outside

and play.

I turned up the heat, I own this day.

Inside I walk the walls like a spider

my mood venomous and quick to bite.

Alone, isolated by the heat, desert houses

are like islands inhabited only by the lonely.

Too hot to drive anywhere.

Burnt butt and back thighs on leather seats

only to peel your damaged skin from

where its suctioned in.