It’s Not The Heat

Humidity today 
is going to be
monstrous, says

the face on the early
weather report. 
She’s not to blame 
for that, although

she sounds a little 
guilty as she says it,
empathizing perhaps
with those of us
who are up
and watching her now,
giving the early warning
that it’s not going to get 
any better than this today,
or apparently for
the next few days; it’s like
she knows it’s going
to get to some of us 
more than others.

For example,

I’m broke as hell
right now
with a wonky car, 
waiting for cash so I can
fix it — so
I’m going to be
stuck in this apartment
during this swamp wave,
restricted to this hovel where
all the surfaces
in every room will soon be
sticky from the air;
I’ll be sticking myself to one room
running its inadequate AC
all day and night,
cranking up yet another bill
right when I can least afford it,
not that I can afford it
any better in the winter
when the gas bills go up
as high or higher than
the electric bills 
do in summer.

This is why
I like spring and fall:
the sense of relief they offer
when you’ve endured
those kinds of hardship

is as good as it gets
for some of us. Those are 
seasons not so much of hope
but of temporary satisfaction
at having ground out a victory
over something that has tried 
to break us and failed;

those few weeks of feeling 
like we dodged a monster
coming for us,
at least for a moment;

kept hold of roof and light,
managed hot and cold,
kept food on the table,
did it all for a few more months,
stuck around to see 

if the next forecast would be any kinder, 
to see if it would offer anything
we could cautiously call hope.

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About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

One response to “It’s Not The Heat

  • Eileen

    Funny how age changes our tolerance. Used to love summer and hate winter, particularly when we were having ice storms and heating with a wood burning stove in a house not designed for that. Now it’s reverse….can’t breathe in the heat. I keep telling myself it’s a first world problem.

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