View From My Window
A Lazy Summer Afternoon and Taking a Siesta
My stomach is full of pop and I
feel like I'm going to pop
like a balloon.
I overflow like a river out onto
the sand. For
the rest of the day I take a
siesta on the porch, feeling the cool
air on my feverish skin,
which has gone quite cold
once summer left for autumn.
I sway peacefully in the hammock,
wanting to lay there for the rest of my life.
The microwave dings-the popcorn is ready-
but I don't feel like getting up.
A bumble bee buzzes by my right ear
but makes no move to land on my nose.
It is a huge bumble bee, maybe six inches
long (though I'm exaggerating),
and its sting, I imagine, must
be sharp and painful, like a shot,
the kind that prevents the flu.
I smile at the bee and watch it fly away.
A boy rides by the house on a bicycle,
and I wave to him; he is Sonja Leval's
son, the wife of my husband's
boss. I am thirsty again, and go
inside to make lemonade, even though the last
of the lemons was given to the boy
who brings the paper because we could
not offer to pay him his weekly salary.
feel like I'm going to pop
like a balloon.
I overflow like a river out onto
the sand. For
the rest of the day I take a
siesta on the porch, feeling the cool
air on my feverish skin,
which has gone quite cold
once summer left for autumn.
I sway peacefully in the hammock,
wanting to lay there for the rest of my life.
The microwave dings-the popcorn is ready-
but I don't feel like getting up.
A bumble bee buzzes by my right ear
but makes no move to land on my nose.
It is a huge bumble bee, maybe six inches
long (though I'm exaggerating),
and its sting, I imagine, must
be sharp and painful, like a shot,
the kind that prevents the flu.
I smile at the bee and watch it fly away.
A boy rides by the house on a bicycle,
and I wave to him; he is Sonja Leval's
son, the wife of my husband's
boss. I am thirsty again, and go
inside to make lemonade, even though the last
of the lemons was given to the boy
who brings the paper because we could
not offer to pay him his weekly salary.
Comment On This Poem ---
A Lazy Summer Afternoon and Taking a Siesta
A Lazy Summer Afternoon and Taking a Siesta
