The days are indeed getting cooler and I sit on the porch wrapped in the blanket I’ve had for life. As I watch through the thick fog, trying to see the light, I listen to the news caster’s frantic tone. His words are our chosen steps through this latest mind.

For freedoms

of speech

to bear arms,

we beseech

each other to hear our voice,

to do harm

to secure our one moment

of righteousness

of rightness

of fame

celebrity.

At all others’ expense,

at whose loss

can we justify our approach to life.

The coffee is weak this morning.

The mornings are getting cooler, I can tell by the feel of the sheets. The way the heat is gone as soon as my lover leaves the bed. In the warmth of summer, they stay damp long after his body has left.  I wish for the cool breeze then, but the heat is all that lingers.

That’s the way it is here in Ohio, all that lingers is a ghost of what used to be.  The summer heat gives way to the cool fall mornings and it seems I can run my hand right through the emptiness surrounding this town.

The air around me in these sheets is full and thick, heavy with the weight of the heat from our passion.  I lay my head back down on the cool sheets and close my eyes; the daylight will come soon enough.  Until then, I’ll just lie here in the cool breeze and remember distantly when it used to be so warm.