She’s singing again. I can hear her through the walls, notes wearing away at the sheetrock as the melody mingles with the dust in the air. I can’t sleep through the heat, can’t seem to find a chill dream to lure me into slumber when the sweat running between my breasts and dampening the sheets feels as warm as my own body. Lying awake to her singing, the only company tonight, and all I can think of is how tired I’ll be in the sap-sticky light of morning.Don’t you know where the rain goes, Don’t you know where the snow blows, darling? All the sleet’s been a fleeing While the world’s lost in dreaming…
Over and over like the rain that won’t come as we watch the crops wilt and the animals pant in wheezes. No one bathes anymore, not when water’s so scarce the cattle are dying, and our fug rises like incense to some flaking god of drought, rises to further thicken the air until our lungs have to labor against the smell. I hear her voice crack on these thoughts and stutter in a cough that only ceases when I pound the wall with knuckles scarred from nights of this. Months of nights. And finally, a sob and a whimper and I can’t stand it any longer. The boards are warm against my heels, the door opens into a (fucking yes it is) warmer hallway inspiring a fresh coat of sweat on my salt-crusted skin. Her door creaks open and there she is, huddled with her face to the wall, but my dry, keen eyes can spot the glisten of tears against her cheeks in the lamplight. She doesn’t turn as the bed sags with my weight, so I push her thin shoulder down into the mattress and as she lies there, eyes closed and on her back, I bend down, not to kiss her, but to lick the tears from her cheeks, to savor the salty moisture that soothes my throat and, as she sobs still, I begin to sing.
So these scientists go to Antarctica and they’re like, studying these penguins. Observing their behavior and shit, and they see this one penguin flop out of the water and start waddling toward the mountains. They know this isn’t normal because that isn’t where the fish is. They know the penguin is going to starve and die, so they turn this penguin around, back around so he’s facing the ocean and the fish and his awkward penguin friends but you know what this guy does? This penguin turns around and starts waddling toward the mountains. Like he already knows where the fish and his friends are but he doesn’t care. He’s gotta get to those mountains even though he’s the only penguin doing it, even though his friends all think he’s crazy, even though he’ll probably starve and fucking die.
Pretty fucked up shit if you ask me.