Lost in the heat and accompanying haze of high summer, along with some ruminative moments of melancholy, I’ve lost a bit of the way on this coquette summer journey. When the heat and humidity rise to such levels, it’s all I can do to get through the day. Committing to the bare minimum of a summer existence is sometimes the only way to guide one’s ship through questionable waters, no matter how temptingly warm they may seem. It requires careful calibration and delicate maneuvering. Especially when the summer has turned to pink…
You are my church, you are my place of worshipI heard you’re the plug, can I be the circuit?When I got court, I hope that you’re the verdictWhen you’re around, my insides turn invertedMy blood starts to rush when I see your doormanI know you’re nearby and I know your purposeTake one look at you, you’re heaven’s incarnateWhat is this spell, baby? Please show some mercy
Kali Uchis sings a song about ‘Melting‘, and the pink and wet blooms seen here on the morning after a night of rain embody the sentiment perfectly. Are these blossoms melting or crying? Is their life elixir being extracted from them, or are they dripping out their dew willingly in some act of giving, some force of universal love?
Melting like an ice cream when you smileMelting, you’re a daydream, stay a while
Summer pink bleeds into sunlight. Forces of life, of blood so faint it looks pink, pulses through the sunny morning. Through closed eyelids, the sun appears pinkish, reddish… is that blood we are seeing, or not seeing, when our eyes are shut to the sun? Are we melting too, like the flowers?
I pray that I can learn to be funnyI’m watching every stand-up comedyJust hoping that it’ll rub off on meSo you’ll smile at everything I sayYou got some soft lips and some pearly whites (pearly whites)I wanna touch them in the dead of night (dead of night)Your smile ignites just like a candlelight (candlelight)Then somehow, I know everything’s alright
Some blossoms bow, some blossoms bend, some blossoms reach to kiss the blossom above them. In all shades of pink, summer bleeds out a little each day, putting forth bits of beauty, spending them in measured doses. As much as we may want summer to be endless, its reservoir eventually runs dry, waiting to be filled by the rains of fall and the snows of winter. That underlying element of a finite limit, in something as wild and unwieldy as a coquette summer, is as bothersome as it is reassuring. Summer pushes and summer pulls.
Melting like an ice cream when you smileMelting, you’re a daydream, stay a while
