August is the heaviest month.
Everything is just too much.
You can haul away the languid air
By the wheelbarrow load.
Everything moves slow
Like we’re all caught in a
Rapidly coagulating clot.
The Massillon train moans its departure before
Rumbling on like stratospheric machinery.
You’re always bent over,
Hands on your knees
Panting like front porch dogs.
Everything is so stifling and heavy.
The universe is sitting on my shoulders
But the Doppler effect would suggest
Otherwise, that it’s actually expanding,
Not falling in on itself like I tend to do.
Unburdening is red-shifting
Away, weightless and free,
Crystalline chill of morning dew,
But someplace far from me.