Go Cry About It, Why Don't You?

I wrote this poem in August, at the height of the wicked summer here in the Phoenix metropolis. Not sure why I haven't published it yet...but here ya go.


Heat waves rise off the pavement,

Making the city shimmer around me.

It's not a beautiful haziness, though.

It's tired. It's worn-out. It's uncomfortable.

It's the metropolis in the Arizonan desert.

It's unbearable.

It's the summer.

The night brings no reprieve. 

No relief.

The monsoon brings dust.

Rarely rain.

The grass dies.

The heat kills what once lived.

But that's summer.

Three years. It's a long dry spell

My loveless love life shimmers around me

No love to be found. Just a mirage.

I'm tired. I'm worn-out. I'm uncomfortable.

I'm alone in a metropolis filled with summer lovers.

It's unbearable.

It's embarrassing.

The night brings lonely dreams.
No relief.
Each day brings numbness.
Am I sane?
The flame dies.
Life kills the hope that lived.
It's like summer.


The title for this post comes from this song:
Slow Dancing In A Burning Room by John Mayer