Down but not out

I feel the heat of summer strapped

onto my back like a straitjacket,

serving to restrict my movements

and turn my breathing shallow.

            I think of you and me, and

how we are bound not by anything

so sordid as a jacket with metal

clasps in the back, but something

as simple as an invisible cord, loosely

draped over both our wrists, serving

to remind us that we are forever

joined, forever linked

            in this world and the next.

I only wish we could escape

what can simply be described as

“Arkansas hot,” for I can not

bear the boiling temperatures any

longer, not even if our passion

bubbles to the surface as it used to

so often on these steamy Arkansas nights.