stares in, and rattles the cage of my energy efficient air conditioner.
Summer is a time for innocence. Up north, we still look forward to summer like happy children and jaded school teachers.
Summer is a time for Neanderthal man, a time for the time before Homosapien discovered fire and death.
If you are callous with credit and time there are two week flights to Europe, long waits on airport lines and leisurely afternoons in overpriced cafes.
In Amsterdam, you can smoke away second thoughts about the exchange rate and the work e-mail you wish unattended.
There are also Paris and London and postcards that prove you were really there, so you have something to respond to when asked
“What did you do this summer?” as something else tells you, The light of day shows us we have nothing to do.
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