Kitchen Heat

It's too hot up here in my azul attic.
The thermostat says 87 in the room, but the oven's on in the kitchen and I can feel the blast of heat as I pass inbetween.
Covered from head to toe in flour and sweat, I've slowly stripped to just my bra and panties, wondering if I could, or should, cook naked.
           I'm wondering if there's a moral ground demanding one must at least cover their genitals when baking.
           What about the nipples?
I wonder if it's hot enough to cook the pizza without the oven.

Cat glares at me, begging to be let downstairs where he can flop on the tile basement floor. Instead we take turns sitting in the shower.
The summer heat is here.
Without warning. It just appeared one day, catching us unprepared.

"Whatcha Doing?"
"Making Ice."
"How Much Ice Do You Need?"
"All Of It."

I splash water all over the kitchen, all over me.
It feels good on my grimy skin.
Cat lays in the puddles, a black and white rug at my feet.

Eyes slide shut.
Too hot to stay awake,
Take a siesta in my abode-
        I'll wake up and clean the mess up in the morning, before the sun is high above my attic roof, when it's cooler.

Summer Hunger

Summer's here and the wanderlust sets in.
After months of content I am the cat- clawing at the windows of my life seeking an adventure.
I am no better than my students as the warmth infects me with restless energy.

I feel hungry- there's an emptiness in me and the more I fill it, the larger it grows.
I want.
I want to bury myself in my imaginings and stare at the clouds lilting overhead,
finding in them the landscapes and adventures from my childish imaginings.
I want to explore a castle, or stumble over a mountain peak, or turn the corner in a foreign city.
I want to lay on a sunny bed with the green leaves rustling outside of my window.
I want to sit on a dock of a sunny lake with the dragonflies circling, little fairies greeting me.
I want to sit on the edge of a flowering gate and fill my journal with anxious scribblings.

No amount of adventure will be enough- my satiation is impossible.
In spite of everything the wild child is freed-
stupid and irresponsible and carefree- alive.
Dreaming of adventures beyond this world.
I thought this summer might be different- so content with my life and my work.
But then the breeze rustles the hairs on my bare arms and awakens in me the missing piece of my puzzle-
the wild wakefulness that had been laid to rest and stirs again.
The embers in my smoldering pit have flamed into a fire.
Here comes the insatiable hunger and the endless wanderings of my mind leading me into weeks of daydreams.
Hours spent in reverie.

Summer's here- I'm awake and necessarily discontent.
The impossible search for the world of my imaginings is on.
Like the mosquito bites on my leg, no matter how I scratch I cannot calm the itch.
Come on an adventure with me- let's discover this summer together.