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Sunlight is a choir. I am sunburned. The music of angels has reddened my skin. My pale body is more accustomed to the dark.
Summer is a fuel-injected hourglass. Time is sand taken from the beach. I feel the blue sky tighten across my pink shoulder blades. Summer is good times; winter’s reward.
This season is snapshots and memories hardened by heat. It’s watching the fireworks in English Bay from a friend’s rooftop balcony. It’s needing to walk slower. It’s the half-smile playing at the corners of almost all the mouths I see. It’s the sauna we stay in, cooking, before running naked into December’s snow.
I feel like I’ve just moved here after spending five years in the middle east seeing women wear burkas. The entire city seems naked. This is heat that throws propriety to the wind.
Friends consider their options in this kind of heat.
This is ice-in-the-bathtub weather. The city is burning down.
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Summer is a fuel-injected hourglass. Time is sand taken from the beach. I feel the blue sky tighten across my pink shoulder blades. Summer is good times; winter’s reward.
This season is snapshots and memories hardened by heat. It’s watching the fireworks in English Bay from a friend’s rooftop balcony. It’s needing to walk slower. It’s the half-smile playing at the corners of almost all the mouths I see. It’s the sauna we stay in, cooking, before running naked into December’s snow.
I feel like I’ve just moved here after spending five years in the middle east seeing women wear burkas. The entire city seems naked. This is heat that throws propriety to the wind.
Friends consider their options in this kind of heat.
This is ice-in-the-bathtub weather. The city is burning down.
tags