There is still a touch of Spring in the wind, a light chill in the morning, a temperate breeze in the afternoon, and like my mood, i am a little behind with the intrusion of Summer.
Days are getting longer. I am starting to feel the pinch of weariness at the end of the day. Sometimes i am too aware that time is dragging, the hours between five to ten in the evening are the longest; i will twist and turn and sit still again, with an idea, a shadow, an object, to watch, to hold, to waste... and before i know it i am a dog ready to crash in bed, thinking, recalling, plotting, all the disapointments, the what-ifs, the should-have-beens... the thousand lives of Summer.
Then i will regress, swimming on a brown river, peeing on the campfire, drinking absinthe under the stars, endless water, alluvial memories, the old lives of Summer, of youth, of youth, of youth, i am ready to be young again, mercy.