The Air Conditioner

 

Something different last night.

Summer night, and usually outside

my apartment bedroom window

the sound of my neighbor’s air con-

ditioning unit.

I’m used to it as it runs constantly

most of the night, shutting down

occasionally. But then on again.

There is a certain rhythm to the

whirring fan which I will often

add my cadence of words—fan

goes round, fan goes round, up

and down, sideways too, fan goes

round...And before I know it, with

sound nevertheless, I fall asleep.

I suppose it’s the same psychology

as counting sheep, only with a synca-

pated pulsating beat.

Last night the weather was cooler

and air conditioning wasn’t necessary,

not at my place nor the apartment

next door.

So there I am lying in bed checking the

the digital clock every fifteen minutes

or so—11:15, 11:30, 11:47, midnight,

12: 20. And I roll over back and forth,

pull the covers up and push them down.

I roll back over again and it’s 1:47 and

I’m still awake. No rhythmic beat to lull

me to sleep.

I hate the first cool nights of autumn.

Without the whirring sounds of that

damned air conditioner outside,

tonight there is no sleep inside.

I suppose, come hell or high water,

air conditioner aside, I’ll hibernate

when winter arrives.

                 -30-

Chris Hanch 9-22-2020