That Was August

Too much heat is not a new thing.

We had it in the Seventies,

When we lived without

Double-glazed windows or

Central air conditioning,

Depending instead

On lowered vinyl roller blinds,

Turned off lights, 

And back doors closed 

To the afternoon sun.

That was August

With its hazy, restless dawn

Following sleepless nights

Filled with old movies

On the networks that 

Did not flatline to a test pattern

But stayed with us deep into the dark,

Lit only by a listless moon 

And the phosphorescence of a streetlight

That seemed to know it was not needed.

I remember one night watching Some Like It Hot,

Laughing at the silliness,

The slapstick, the friendships,

Wishing I could be in that world

Of adventure and devil-may-care, and friends right here, 

And Mom fixing cheese and tomato sandwiches

On Wonder bread during the commercials.

Mom stayed with me because I could not sleep

Because I could not stand being alone

Because I could not stand the thought of junior high,

The vastness and anonymity.

We stretched out on the old couch 

That had been her mother’s.

Insects made their music.

The street light burned.  

Home held us

As Marilyn told us

I want to be loved by you

You and nobody else but you.