want some?

My mama never did, but she made sure to let Van Morrison let me know there'd be days like this. Sometimes i worry that I have some wicket backwards form of Seasonal Affective Disorder. I am the polar opposite of those people who become complete misanthropes in winter. Summer nights make me wistful, nostalgic, endlessly and tediously ponderous in some of the most obnoxious ways. Decisions are impossible. Starry night skies remind me of minstrel cicadas trilling ballads of all the nights I spent on swings at twelve, thirteen, fourteen, remembering a naivete i never actually possessed. I can spend hours remembering myself remembering a self I only hoped I was. It's enough to make your head spin.

No man has ever spent the time romancing me the way I've spent eons with the nighttime breeze romancing myself with these vivid daydreams of night skies and golden wheat fields that i'll never see as clearly again. Somehow the langorious days around me reflect in those in my head and form an infinite mirror, each remembered reflection more beautiful than the last, and there are never words to put it all down. I am never ever able to quite as aptly paint in black and white times new roman font the same picture that idles and hums around me enhanced and reflected again through the amber light of my nostalgia'
.

So it pools inside of me. Finally and eventually, right around September every year it brims out of me, salted with regret at my inability to say, to show, to share. I cry at the selfishness inherent in not being brave or smart or poetic enough to give it to everyone. To see or feel it. How it runs throgh me, heart like a drumbeat trying to pump it through ever inch of me, to fill every capillary with blood turned to honey, made sleepy by delight and the sudden knowledge of each cell, nucleus, mitochondria to sing; to glow.

My conscience thrums with it's imagined culpability in being unable to give it away. So Dinah Washington, the salt on my skin and I will be in the backyard listening to the blues, drinking ice tea, waiting for the nightfall, missing lightning bugs.