it is one hundred degrees today
celsius
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”
