It's nearly unbearable, the heat.
Float into the cool kitchen. There, a fly
will put you in a trance, slamming itself against the glass.
Remember that time is gelatinous, measured in golden honey.
Also note that the lemonade will never be quite sweet enough, always too sour.
It's summer and there are absolutely no shadows.
Later the shadows
begin to ooze from behind your eyes.
But the heat still lingers and presses much, much too close. The cherries in the fridge are agonizingly sour.
The stratosphere is wonderfully cool. If possible, fly
toward it as fast as you can. Otherwise, slow as honey,
you will drop to the ground and shatter like glass.
Recall what you have been taught: sand melts into glass.
Try not to sink like heavy, silent amber.
Prevent the shadows
from getting stuck in your cogs. If they do, coat them with honey
and turn them into pearls. You can't escape the heat,
so embrace it. By now you will have discovered whether or not you can fly.
If you can't, don't become sour.
Open the fridge and test if the milk has gone sour.
I once heard a story about a boy whose one desire was a tall, cold glass
of milk. If you cannot fly
fill your days in other ways. Brush away the shadows.
If the heat ever
gets too heavy, find someone to call your honey.
Whoever she is, your honey
should be able to save you from yourself. Poof, the sour
is gone. She should float a little above the earth, like heated
air. Don't try to make her out of marble or glass.
It won't work. You will know her by the way she banishes the shadows
from your cogs, even if you have made them into pearls. Please swat that fly.
Now snap out of the trance in which that fly
has entrapped you (just like I said it would). Time is still moving like honey
because it's summer and there are no shadows.
Drink some of that sour
lemonade – you deserve it. You should really use a clean glass.
Walk back out into the heat.
Don't fly if it makes you sour.
Sip cherry juice with your honey from two icy glasses.
Try not to trail any shadows into the house because they'll melt in the heat.
Float into the cool kitchen. There, a fly
will put you in a trance, slamming itself against the glass.
Remember that time is gelatinous, measured in golden honey.
Also note that the lemonade will never be quite sweet enough, always too sour.
It's summer and there are absolutely no shadows.
Later the shadows
begin to ooze from behind your eyes.
But the heat still lingers and presses much, much too close. The cherries in the fridge are agonizingly sour.
The stratosphere is wonderfully cool. If possible, fly
toward it as fast as you can. Otherwise, slow as honey,
you will drop to the ground and shatter like glass.
Recall what you have been taught: sand melts into glass.
Try not to sink like heavy, silent amber.
Prevent the shadows
from getting stuck in your cogs. If they do, coat them with honey
and turn them into pearls. You can't escape the heat,
so embrace it. By now you will have discovered whether or not you can fly.
If you can't, don't become sour.
Open the fridge and test if the milk has gone sour.
I once heard a story about a boy whose one desire was a tall, cold glass
of milk. If you cannot fly
fill your days in other ways. Brush away the shadows.
If the heat ever
gets too heavy, find someone to call your honey.
Whoever she is, your honey
should be able to save you from yourself. Poof, the sour
is gone. She should float a little above the earth, like heated
air. Don't try to make her out of marble or glass.
It won't work. You will know her by the way she banishes the shadows
from your cogs, even if you have made them into pearls. Please swat that fly.
Now snap out of the trance in which that fly
has entrapped you (just like I said it would). Time is still moving like honey
because it's summer and there are no shadows.
Drink some of that sour
lemonade – you deserve it. You should really use a clean glass.
Walk back out into the heat.
Don't fly if it makes you sour.
Sip cherry juice with your honey from two icy glasses.
Try not to trail any shadows into the house because they'll melt in the heat.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
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