Summer Air

Inside the windows fog over. I wonder:
Do the water droplets collect on the
Inside of the window glass or outside.

I sit and wonder this. Somewhere
Deep inside the radio speakers
Tinkles a piano.  I turn up volume
And rollick to Pepe Romero's classical guitar.

Only the noisy cicadas
Outside the foggy windows.
Inside, the smell of fresh paint
and figs rotting in the wooden bowl by the window.

Everywhere mosquitoes, ubiquitous biting bugs
And even the bottled water tastes like iodine.