Heat never bothers you
As a kid, play until
You drop, brown and dusty
Then haul ass on your bike
To the corner store,
Grab an ice cold pop
From the cooler
And you’re good to go,
Ready to play two
Before you’re called home for dinner.
It turns up a bit as a teen, though,
Hot to trot seemingly every second,
Flushing with embarrassment
At every faux pas committed,
A frequent occurrence
At that most awkward age,
As I’m sure we all remember.
Then in your prime, the biological clock
A time bomb ticking,
The procreative urge at white heat
Intensity, making you even
More prone to lapses in judgment
That can have a life-long impact
(choice of mate being one).
And perhaps a mid-life crisis
Or two, one last chance to
Recapture your vigor
(such as it was)
Ruin everyone’s life
(including yours)
Revisit your youthful aspirations
And do something about them
If it’s not too late
(it’s never too late).
Even now I love being out in it,
(Though admittedly mostly in my
Imagination these days)-
Reading about it in Faulkner,
Recalling the stillness of days past
In the shimmering heat.
Just the thought of it
Gives me some warmth
In the depths of winter.
.
But as you grow older, and the
Vital heat paradoxically wanes,
You can’t escape it, and notice it
In many different ways, though often
Retreating to desert cities,
Where, even if you wouldn’t
Be caught dead outside in the
Scorching air, you can still
Enjoy it vicariously
Through the picture window in your
Air conditioned abode.
I suppose it does warm your bones
A bit to do that
Although you know
Your time has passed
And you’re preoccupied
With merely trying to survive
Desperately attempting
To control your temperatures
Within and without
All the while allowing
The planet to burn up.