The air was strange,

like fire had taken

too much oxygen.

People were polite

in a strained way

and snacks were plentiful.

No one mentioned

endings

or anything important,

just lawns and interest rates

and a vague look or two

reminiscent of used teddy bears.

I don’t understand much

but I knew

there was something

behind the sun.

It’s there

and it’ll take us all,

regardless of nudity

or lies or whatever we say.

Thoughts and feelings

bouncing like pinballs

before an electrical storm.

The wind in my ears

was so strong,

there were no

soothing sounds

of crickets

or summer moon

to help me sleep.

I slept anyway,

but it was a tiring affair,

full of heavy breathing

and a relentless array of seasons

stacked ahead of me.

The trees are sweating

and the flowers are thirsty.

My eyelids don’t want to cooperate.

Rocks seem to bend like water.

Minutes and hours are… sticky.

It’s a thumping pulse

of worry on a late July day.

the great green spine

wove through milky afternoons

spreading slowly

with creeping things

keeping time without a sound

but with feelers

a tender reach

stirring heavy summer air

basking in green

The explosion

was the gift

but it was so quiet,

nobody noticed.