Resistance to Summer

I’ve been feeling uneven lately,
as different from my usual self as
expectation is from the reality of summer.

It came in this year in a wave of heat
and broken air conditioners
and sensitivity to voices and light,
swelling the doorways,
shoving the sun through windows,
leaving little heaps of lethargy
in the corners of the room
as if to say, “I’m here.”

I’ve been feeling the
ball of disillusionment grow
in my stomach daily.

It landed there when we had that fight
on the first day of summer,
and I realized that the fun of the season
had collapsed into strange sickness
and
an uneasy resistance to play.