Technically, it is hotter within me
than in this air that wraps my sweating skin,
but the margin is slight,
and the sun assails every attempt
at homeostasis.

A body is a meat sack filled
with thermostats, or so I’m told.
All day, my flesh measures
heat, hunger, need,
toggles this or that
toward some hoped for
equilibrium.

Scientists say it might be
this uncertainty, the very volatility
of our world, the need
for some safe return to zero, the fact
that we never stay at zero—

It might be this
that gives rise to feelings,
sentience,
the conscious mind.

I think,
but first I feel,
I thirst,
I overheat.
It is so fucking hot today,
therefore I am.