Summer

Morning pummels my body
with its ridiculous heat.
Six floors up is closer to the sun
which is why the back of my chair is damp.
My skin mocks the organs underneath
while outside engines rev up the heat
with internal combustion. You could
cook an egg on any surface in this
room. A pile of socks in the oven.
The rubber on my shoes is soft
and pliant like a lover's hand.
Let the day blast out its broad
furnace light. Oh, may the fluids
we exude find their way to the ocean
where I'll be waiting for you.