The heat is like a third person in the room
Making us shift uncomfortably in our chairs
We can’t have a private conversation
Just you and me.
We glance at our books, and the tv
And wish the time would pass quickly
Till its bed time and we can move
To our air-conditioned bedroom.
The heat is overwhelming. It seeps into everything. The chairs feel warm through my clothes when I sit on them. The sheets are too warm to sleep on. Even the floor, when my bare foot touches it, greets me with warmth.
I sweat incessantly. I think of showering, but what’s the point? I’ll feel the same fifteen minutes after I’m done.
I am surprised that everything hasn’t grinded to a halt. That things go on as usual. Don’t they feel the heat, those people in the buses and the cars and the bikes and walking along the street? How can they talk in this heat, and cook, and work, and make love?
How long will it take for the summer to pass by? If I just sit here in my room, doing nothing for long enough, will it have ended by the time I open my window again?