This mild weather makes it feel like summer. Blue skies. The scent of freshly cut grass. That kinda shit. Skinny white guys without tops, necking cans of lager on the street in search of cheap pussy to take their mind off the unbearable lightness of being. The girlz they go for pout for reasons they dare not comprehend. Reasons that resemble scuttling beetles brushing aside thick blades of grass on a lawn that looks so pretty from afar. The buildings shrink in the heat. Puddles turn to steam as we kiss on a bench enjoying our cigarettes and coffee. The coffee stirs my stomach. It gives me the shits. The war memorial behind us attracts a flock of birds. They sing and scavenge, much like us little humans. Their beaks tap the earth, and from down below, a worm appears only to be snatched away into the sky. Waving the worm goodbye, we inspect the names of the dead on the memorial. Evaporating before our eyes, they join the remains of the wispy clouds hovering over the church. I’m not much of a believer, it has to be said, but whenever I’m near a church, I try to clear my mind of smut. You never know who’s listening. Y’know? On days like these, everything and nothing are rolled into one. It exists, but it doesn’t, like memories of the past that scratch my skin while leaving not even the merest trace. What bakes my noodle most is that despite these differing sensations, my time on this planet will be over before I know it, and it’ll be as if I was never here at all. I don’t wanna be just another silhouette. Just some other phantom of the night. The fear is real, which is why so many find it easier to be hard than soft. This sun though, and the way it kisses my throat. How it holds me in its arms, making me feel like a child—like nothing can touch me. So I float through the air like a leaf caught in the breeze, as soft and as carefree as I care to be.