Last night was about as miserable as I expected, but tonight is supposed to be a bit cooler. It still won't go below 70, but it will get much closer than it did last night. Thankful for small favors. I really need to catch up on the lost sleep from the nights when the heat kept me waking up so frequently. If it doesn't happen tonight there's a good chance it will happen tomorrow night. What I am most looking forward to is Wednesday night, when it could drop below 60 for a while. Oh, the luxury!
Now, time for English people murdering one another on television.
Music Swims Back to Me
by Anne Sexton
Wait Mister. Which way is home?
They turned the light out
and the dark is moving in the corner.
There are no sign posts in this room,
four ladies, over eighty,
in diapers every one of them.
La la la, Oh music swims back to me
and I can feel the tune they played
the night they left me
in this private institution on a hill.
Imagine it. A radio playing
and everyone here was crazy.
I liked it and danced in a circle.
Music pours over the sense
and in a funny way
music sees more than I.
I mean it remembers better;
remembers the first night here.
It was the strangled cold of November;
even the stars were strapped in the sky
and that moon too bright
forking through the bars to stick me
with a singing in the head.
I have forgotten all the rest.
They lock me in this chair at eight a.m.
and there are no signs to tell the way,
just the radio beating to itself
and the song that remembers
more than I. Oh, la la la,
this music swims back to me.
The night I came I danced a circle
and was not afraid.