I’m an indoor person. 
Give me my air conditioning. 
I sweat if it’s over seventy degrees.
I don’t ever tan, I only burn.
Mosquitos find me delicious. 
Don’t ever ask me to go camping, 
Even glamping is too much. 

Today was enough to lure me outside,
in a chair in my driveway, evening falling.

When the fireflies started
their strobing mating dance,
and the light faded to a sliver of pink,
I came inside. 

I escaped with only two mosquito bites,
so I might go out again tomorrow. 
But this time I’ll wear bug spray.