it is one hundred degrees today
the sweat vapor around my head
conducts more clearly undulating cicadasong

dusty roads grow dustier

a porcine man sits in front of a boxfan daydreaming
of winter(when he’ll daydream of summer)

lazy dogs get lazier

two nineyearolds with twodayold buzzcuts
throw down their fishingpoles
plunge buttfirst into a turbid pond
concluding that if you can’t extract fish you might as well join them

long days lengthen

a preacher’s wife constructs a witticism
with plastic letters on a (rusting) flashingarrowsign
(no bulbs burning pointing churchward)
two days later it reads:
“bea the heat ge saved”