45 Degrees

There’s a wet handkerchief

With purple and blue flowers

In the corner

Covering my face;

And the fan –

Which feels

Like it’s running

On a three

Although, I’m sure

I put it on a five –

Is creaking air

Onto my body

That’s clothed enough

To be acceptable

And naked enough

To not cage me

In the April sun.

The squirrels are busy

Nibbling at the window,

I’m believe

They believe

They’ve cracked jackpot

But really,

It’s just a layer

Of tanned dust.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s