childhood revisited

it's the freakish

heat

that makes people rush to the window

and look out

as if it's the end

of the world.

but it isn't.

i remember hotter days

than this,

in the small

rooms our home

on Chester Street,

the flat tar roof,

no air conditioning, 

the clunk

of a large fan

barely swinging to the left

and right.

providing a stingy

breath of warm air

upon our bare bodies.

how we laid

in bed

on those summer nights.

knowing no

other life

than this.

i don't think this is the end

of the world

at all

these days,

a hundred degrees

is nothing,

it's childhood revisited.