Humidity

An embrace- 

with it

the callous, wet warmth,

the stick of sweat

washing through my aching fingers.

A dead pit, summer. The crackle of 

hot cement, the moon whispering

half-shown, dusk.

The shine of little kei-cars, as they pass by.

The smell of coming rain, mixed with the heat

makes me wonder why I stand here

my eyes blank, staring. 

The same feeling,

heat and warmth. Standing alone

the chirp of nighttime crickets

an autumn chill taking root.

Pressure... a weight,

Summer's weight,

sticky, shivering

waiting.