Summer

Copyright © 2013 C.L. Mannarino
All rights reserved.

summer bubbles

You hang over my eyes, a mist that makes impossibilities feel tangible until they evaporate beneath my fingertips and the oasis is revealed to be a mirage. Hot air makes for slow brains and even slower thinking. When I retreat to air conditioned rooms in my cotton shirts and silk-lined coat, you bead on the window, fogging the glass until you can leak inside the frame and trickle down the wall.

summer rain

You can’t escape me.

lazy summer

Beachside dreams coax from the corners of my mind. It would be easy—so easy—to run away with them. Never mind the paperwork, darling. Leave it all behind. A fantasy is calling and I’ve become untouchable in the lazy heat. I can get away with anything.

You smile and nod your head.

bright summer

That’s what I’m here for. Dreams made flesh.

ophelia

It’s only when the impossible—the improbable—happens that reality tears its way through the otherwise infinite fabric of ignored time and wide-open space. My chest no longer feels open so that the entire universe could fit inside. Your haze is there, along with your pocket full of dreams, but now the edge of your beginning and end are tinged with red. The bookends of passing seasons are much more defined and our actions have consequences.

summer morning

Wipe that winking smile off your face.

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