Sometimes it doesn't matter what you do
It's just too hot, and sweat drips down your spine,
Your mouth feels like it's filled with mealy glue
And on your fingers there's a sea of brine.
Sometimes it's just impossible to feel
Like anything you do can be enough
To break that spell that makes your senses reel
And everything seem jellified yet rough.
But even when your senses want to fade
And nothing seems like it is ever right
There is a place of interior shade
In which to find the cool side of the night:
I simply think of you, and smile slow
And let all of the other problems go.
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