An Interstitial Poem

She asks me to write
her a poem
because she's bored.
I'm on the verge
of freaking out,
PMDD and moving
and no Internet;
the air around me
boiling the furniture,
boredom does not
factor into my life
right here.

[Written on Monday, before buying some window a/c units... By Wednesday the boredom was getting to me, too, so I started re-reading Game of Thrones. It's still to hot to do much unpacking during the day.]