Not sure if I get weirder in summer
or the decision-making fatigue
all day every day from August- May
just masks the ever-present weird,
but every anniversary week
of that 5:00 am alarm being unset, 
I morph at an alarming speed 
back to my homeostasis,
to live the circadian rhythm of the undead. 

It’s sweaty out there, y’all, 
really from noon to nightfall,
so when I leave my lair,
I am rewarded with ten minute sunburns
through my windshield and the speed metal
of screaming insect sex
blasting from the trees.

I’ll wait, thanks, to peel my pale body
from its air conditioned husk
to grocery shop, water and weed 
at dusk, when the uv light and humidity
of the day are finishing up
the pavement’s steam facial, 
and the flowers have dropped 
their hot heads back, withering leaves
splayed out, spent with effort 
from withstanding the day’s heat,
waiting for the hose to drop the bucket
on them in their Flashdance repose. 

I’ll stay up late, sleep in later,
sometimes with a burst of inspiration 
or more often minutiae 
I remember I forgot
sometime around 3 am. 
When July ends I will be deeply rerooted
in bampire mode (as my daughter called
the cold ones when she was little),
just in time for school 
and I will hiss and bare my fangs
at the resetting of the alarms.