and pale white as a snowball in July,
I’ll still throw on a pair of shorts
And lounge outside on a
sunny summer’s day.
But you, at over twice my age
with your varicose veins,
stay stubbornly inside
whiling away the hours
basking in the air conditioning.
By my teen years I’ve given up;
the blistered, sun-burned skin is
too much to bear anymore
and I embrace the waste of electricity.
I bathe in it like the soothing waters
of Bath, unwilling to pull myself away,
finding it irresistible and essential,
waiting for the varicose veins
to creep up on me just like you.
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