june

i sweat, even though
the only thing i am wearing
is a pair
of cut off jean shorts.

no a/c
in this apartment.

i've just been too lazy
to install the wall unit i bought
two weeks ago,
and the hair
growing out of my brain
and face
feels like wool.

i almost like it this way
and i did leave
a few windows open.

early june in chicago
is spun of humidity
and girls wearing
mostly skin.

the calendar
that god made
was intended this way.

right now
all i can hear are the screams
and moans
permeating through
the mouths
of every single bardoor
on this block,

and all i can do
is listen
like its a piece of noise
flung out
by some mother nature
desperate
to give birth.

i light
one more cigarette
just as
i'm offering the remnants
of the previous one
to the bottom
of this beer can.
(a beer can
actually smoke.)

and here we are, somewhere
between the lines
and pores
of this earth,
where water cannot even help.