on the last day of june the city sweats itself sticky. something intoxicating about the dampness that precedes thunderstorm. humidity-entrenched, understand why some call air a medium—feel her cling to you as second skin as you trudge through her body. you who comes alive at the touch of skin: heat of bodily other at last night’s rave, harmonic tension and bated breath ‘tween strangers.
as of late, you’ve been wading with storms on your mind, the ocean’s demise in your eyes. sultry secret pressed to your lips. so keen on thinking of space you’ve forgotten about time.
rain is summer’s sweet serenade, sera meaning evening, sereno meaning open air, serenata meaning clear sky. serenade meaning we have to say goodbye, you who breathes so much air you could only exist now. breeze so heavy it demands release. by morning we will unspool a tad, by morrow sky runs stale again. just as the storm, you too, will pass.
6.30.24