Even the north pole is 38 degrees Celsius. That's 95 Fahrenheit or higher? Why bother, nobody I know is living there. It's the online Asian news, telling you disasters here, there, everywhere. Polar bear is starving, permafrost on fire, igniting a forest with flame raging, from the melting ice, new islands emerging, an arctic competition beginning. Can my mind think afar? Can my mind think ahead? Forgotten juice on the counter tastes fermented and funny; lawn green and patched, framed with cement path, looks dry and weary. Don't touch the blinds, dusk on your fingers. Laundry washed and dried, try to fold several at a time. With small effort now and then, finishing by night or tomorrow, in between reading poems I'm never able to write. Does it matter? Memory scattered, focus is an effort as well as a tyranny. The beautiful girl I met, her brown skin glows my thoughts away. Her greeting is melodious, touching me with her voice and her glance. mine is awkward, shy, and short. How odd.