Melting

The air conditioner rattles off a few metallic clanks
between debating voices on Larry King Live
I throw on my gray seater and sit down
on the worn, green couch

A puzzle is floating above me
in black and white spirals,
words mixing in and out of themselves
in inconceivable patterns.

I think about MC Escher and his endless staircase.
I’m getting dizzy looking at the undulations.
Up and down the stairs
up and down

The pieces don’t fit!

I look down, grab the remote and turn off the TV,
get up and turn off the air conditioner
take off my sweater
and lift a spoon of ice cream to my mouth.

The ice cream melts on my tongue
then rides down my skin into tiny bumps
I bet Escher liked vanilla ice cream
because there is clearly a connection.