Chills + Problems

“When the chill of the air is the same as when you were 12”

Wrestling the window frame

Jammed crooked cracked veneer
holding back the paralyzing licks
that can relax me to sleep
let me have reprise after a full day
of summer heat, open damn you, open
my palm flats slamming upwards
on the tilted frame, open
open open open

At eye level the twist crescent lock
catches on the edge of the edge
repeatedly my problems are rarely
what I believe them to be
when I somehow solve them
at the hundredth slam wiggling
the crescent lock just slightly
the solution often takes me to the same place
when I’ve come the hard way
the breeze seems sweeted
and I sleep better