Summer gives me shivers, hot and cold; hot in the day, cold in the evening before I lie down before the screen window beneath my sheets, with my ears toward the crickets. There are no crickets here.
Just the smell of heat baking asphalt, melting tar spills and wooden porches, releasing plantlife fumes into the air, takes me back through so many years -- some that I can remember all the time, some that only come back to me with this, the smell of heat.
running barefoot through a backyard I could still trace for you on my skin if you liked -- from abandoned dog house to lavender bush, playing pandas, no-one-wants me runaways, scarecrows over-the-rainbow...
pitchy hands on tree bark that's beginning to rub, leaving blisters; feeling like a boy and feeling cool for that; looking down, way down, at a pineneedle path
lying nervous in the underbrush of a tunnel in a park and feeling my heart pulse a nervous clockwork
vinyl (or was it leather?) interior of a white four-door car, with wind blowing through its windows and 60s summer music pounding through its stereo
textured shingles underneath my thighs, feeling the loneliest I've ever felt, waiting for my best friend to return because she's really the only one who sort of understands it, even if it's only a little bit
a sunset in a living room (or was it a bedroom or a park) hanging heavy with goodbye on the insistence of I-love-you; two bodies pressed close, knowing with the next fading of these rays they too will be a washed memory on each other's retinas (or was it hearts or only dreams)
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I'm coming back. I've missed this blog too much.
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