JUNE BUG

                 

Already it is the 9th of June, and well into the hundreds. I am miserable, sweaty and sticky, as I slowly melt into the leather couch like a chocolate bar on the sidewalk. The apartment easily becomes the same temperature as the stifling heat outdoors.
The two fans I got the day before simply swirl the suffocating breeze allowing me to get a breath or two of breathable air and a moment more of life. The dog simply passes out on the cool tiles of the kitchen and waits for the mosquito filled air of the evening.

The river will soon call my name passionately, beckoning me to swim it's length.  I will hear it in the wind and I will go, as I always do every Summer.