This heat makes my head hurt.
Coats my brain in humid haze,
clings to delicate cerebral crannies
and leaves me feeling fuzzy
all damned day long.
This heat has about killed my strawberries.
No matter how much shade
I try to manufacture, it seeps in.
Sunshine soaks the concrete block
and singes deep down at the root.
I’ve only had one sweet taste of summer,
one little bite of berry still warm
from the first of June,
so sweet on the back of my tongue
and chased down by the salt
gathering on my upper lip.
I feel like we’re wilting,
me and the strawberries,
but at least we made it through May.