I’m waiting for September. August is liminal and it means nothing. I’m drifting in and out of existence and only part of me is here at any one time.
If I was a feather, I’d be a bright one who glimmers in the sun. If I were a goat, my horns would be grand. And if I were a whale, I’d dive deeper than any whale has ever gone.
As a human, I’ll do nothing.
At least not until September.
In August we did little but drift in and out of sleep. On a wakeful day we might stumble to the park with jars of wine and a blanket where we’d lay in the shade and watch dogs play on the grass. But most days it was the couch. In the morning it was coffee––cocktails in the afternoon.
I’d go to be early or late; it didn’t make much of a difference.
It was August and hot, and I let it pass without holding on.
It was August and we could barely move. On occasion we got drunk or made love. Sometimes we sat in the park in the shade without talking for hours. In the early morning we’d walk and we’d sleep in the afternoons.
It was August and nothing was the same. All that mattered was that we kept the plants alive. We had to eat and drink, but they were afterthoughts and little more. Some days we wouldn’t speak, and when we had to go out it was as if the world was on fire.
It was August and we fucked in the rain. The thunder woke us in the afternoon and we drifted from sleep to sex without thought. In her dream I was a lion.
It was August and it took me two hours to realize I had slept with everyone at the picnic. It had been a few years in most cases but it didn’t matter. It made no difference at all.
Sex was a dream and the day was hot and drunk.
It was August and the rain hit the windows in loud bursts. Thunder left the dog hiding in the bathroom, and my clothes were so wet I left them by the door. Naked, I fell asleep wondering if it would be cool in the morning.
It was August and we bumped into old friend on the street and had nothing to say. We drank our martinis and watched people for sport. When the waiter asked if we wanted another round we always said yes.
It was August and I didn’t write a single line.