Do you know
I lay beneath the trembling fan
feeling every one of these 92 degrees,
staring at the way the blinds ribbon the light
and thought about how you
in air conditioning and a tie
greeting the hot, the frustrated, the tired.
A different kind of heat,
and both go to the bone.
I want you to text me,
to say you heard me,
it will have to be enough to send my mind's eye
to peek at the spread of your shoulders
and dream of cold and snuggling and venison stew
scenting the air.