I keep thinking about a day last summer.
The sky was red and so was our skin.
The air was thick so there was hardly need to speak.
The room was small and we were listless.
We filled a whole bucket with ice that fogged and hissed.
It was an attempt to block out the oppressive heat
That tapped on our skins.
But when I picked up the ice.
How quickly it did melt.
It was a pure solid crystal.
But then streaks of water coursed down my arm.
After only a moment I'd be holding nothing.
I can't stop thinking.
About how fast the ice melted in my hand.