Seeing Through the Invisible Summer
Summer is white light coming through your curtains, white heat coming through your walls, bleached sidewalk scenes and powdered clouds looking down. The garden bench of bleached bones and the dead grass like paper shavings rustling are looking around, but they don't see me, see-through boy, hiding as I walk across the lawn.
Yes it's a see-through summer all round, so that no one can know me on the streets where I roam during the day. In the cafés they bring water to an empty chair and squint because it's too bright to see. At the house they look at the rising thermometer and it's too hot to notice the creeping chill that slinks upstairs.
I'm chilled for always, it seems, because I was frozen during winter and summer's heat just bleaches me more. It's a bleach-white summer all round, bleach that stings in nostrils and pricks eyes and evokes thoughts of white hair in murky corridors.
Too much of this heat and light might make me curl up like a summer grass blade. White skin and white hair are too hot. It's better to have invisible thoughts.