Running Hot

It’s 100 degrees outside.

The kind of heat that presses down on you,

makes everything slower, heavier.

My car runs at 215.

steady, constant.

Fans spinning, fluids circulating,

doing exactly what it was made to do.

No one notices,

not until the temperature climbs too high,

or something hisses,

or a warning light flashes red.

It’s like that with people too.

We move through our days carrying heat no one sees.

Keeping things running,

juggling pressure,

silently doing the work.

And most of the time,

no one says anything.

Not until we snap,

break down,

stop working the way they expect.

Suddenly, everyone's listening.

But by then, 

we are already overheating.