summer sweat

Summer sweat. And a neon confusion from exhaustion. That awakening pain and explosion of muscles. In your mind you see a pool. The great pool you knew as a child, and how you can still smell it in every drip of summertime water. Any given lake house. The sprinklers dotting your neighborhood. And the tiny beads of salty perspiration gliding slowly down your temples.

You think of cheap pizza. An afternoon of video games in your grandma's unused bedroom. Or maybe you see the faces of those most familiar, who held you through playgrounds. The thud and scattering of woodchips under a swingset. The metallic odor of a jungle gym on your hands. A dog barking at fresh cut grass. All in the summer sweat.

The summer heat makes it run. Makes you run. Tears at the inspiration in your mind and says, "more". It says "now". It says "forever". Only second guesses would dare say otherwise. Only failings and hard lessons speak with wisdom for slowing down. The pull to summer's push. The flowerly falling of moisture to the earth and grass under your bare feet screaming, "go!" Only cycles. Seasons and reoccuring nightmares. The intangible fear of not falling asleep. The tiny aches of worn skin and countless thoughts blowing free in the sun and warm air. A burn on the skin and the bleached feeling of outside. When a cool breeze comes to answer the call of heat, it must whisper. It must blur the divison between those first and second thoughts. Where the infinite finds purpose. Where white divides and spools of difference unravel. They are ropes to climb, and pull, and jump from in afternoons that could only be out of time.