a hot wind

The sun swelters and a hot wind blows the heat about. Breeze usually helps the matter but not today. Every driver seems propelled by blundering self-absorption; a good day for a parking lot collision.



I drink some Limeade tasting pleasantly of those push-up popsicles of younger days. Still, I wish for a splash of cranberry to cut the sweetness, a shot of vodka to burn. It's a good day to drink and too hot for anything but gin or vodka but all I have is beer.



A good day for a long walk under the stars. I don't want to talk and I miss having a large dog so I could do these things alone. If I were up North, I'd go for a midnight skinny-dip. The moon will hit the water just right tonight. But that's about the only thing I miss about up North right now.



I'm thinking about a friend with the same last name, the other last name, who visited me from a state where the sun shines all night this time of year and you can ski till dawn. He'd say "I luf you" with a star hanging 'round his neck for the girl with the same name as the pendant and it's true, we luffed but we didn't love. My picture of him always had an amber tinge, from another era even then.



When the end's in sight perhaps you do lose your reserve. Those summers we lived as though immersed in a revolving first love free from fear or accountability or boundaries. We had snow in the summer and bacon cheeseburgers in the afternoon and swam before dinner. The stars were our television, kisses our sex.



A good day to sit on the porch and avoid the sun. A good day not to question things the hot wind irritates. The sun pulls me into myself and I'm better off away from the road for now.