Summer

Some days, the view is obscured by clouds, some days by polluted brume. Sometimes the uneven peaks glitter in the sun as I plunge below the earth on one more day, one more trip. I can get whatever I want, good or bad. I can see whatever I want, be whatever I want, feel whatever I want. I can see beauty and repulsiveness but nothing is average. Nothing except those who don’t care anymore. No one except those who don’t see or feel anymore. It is freedom only as long as you do not let yourself be controlled by it. Its intensity is a drug, just a little bit more, a little bit more, and you find yourself craving feeling and swirl of activity and hot air with little bits of paper that are blown up into your face by the yellow cab that passes too close at your fingertips you cough and dart in front of the bus now it’s a game to gain the sidewalk before the bus gains you and then you push on into the greenery down the hill and the horns fade and the damp smell of fresh earth and flowers looms up and envelopes you and you can run into the grass and fall down and roll through and still its intensity radiates up through the earth and will never let you go as you peer up through the sunlight at the tower glittering in the sun.