the heat is in the crook of my arms and legs
waiting for me to wake up in the morning.
when I rise
sultriness kills me
if I don’t take my moving slow.
the heat of the day is a new monster
no air in the library
words melting off rehydrated pulp
momentous musings of man mean nothing to nature.
well-being remains unremedied
until a cool 5 o’clock
when I sit by the fan
and motorize happy howls.
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