99poems/limes

Just as I suspected,
I return home
to find summer,
the land where
I never want to
live.
I buy limes
by the bag,
$2.99 a pound.
Hard little kernels
with almost
no juice.
And set the thermostat
just under 80 degrees,
the registered temperature
slightly above that mark.
I wait.
As patiently as
I can,
but finally
cave in,
and nudge
things along,
sliding the thermostat up
for relief.
It is the
stillness
I cannot stand.
Heat makes
me stupid,
shriveling
my capacity
for joy
to a narrow
riverlet, slithering
its way through
the boulders,
on the wrong
side of the damn.

6/14/99