the porch swing rocks in anticipation, 

waiting for me. 

the shade is hot 

and the metal chain is hotter, 

i wince as i brush it with my hand. 

i push the pain aside 

with the rest of my sunburn,

making a note to find aloe inside. 

a lizard blinks up at me, 

eyes bugging out as if 

to commiserate about the heat. 

i wave at it, 

and it scurries off, 

leaping into the sand near the pool. 

half of me wonders 

why i am still out in this heat, 

the other half 

too asleep to notice. 

the swing rocks gently, 

the sunlight blankets me, 

and the cicadas sing me to sleep. 

when i wake, 

time doesn’t seem to have passed. 

i am covered 

in a light sheen of sweat, 

no more or less 

than when I fell asleep. 

the beach house still shades me, 

the sand still sticks 

between my toes. 

there is no difference between 

the paradise 

before sleep nor after. 

i look around for a clock, 

and find none. 

the swing is still moving, 

the cicadas still screaming. 

the lizard has disappeared for good.

i let my feet fall to the ground, 

and stand up, 

pushing through the humid haze 

that has gathered in my head. 

inside, 

it is cold and dark, 

and i am tired once more. 

the couch is inviting, 

the cool fabric absorbs my sweat, 

and the hum of the air conditioning 

replaces the constant noise of the cicadas. 

i am at peace still, 

never having broken

the trance of the beach.