to slow heat

you simply must excuse shayna today. sitting so slowly in the slug traffic. everything was on fire. all the heat moved faster than the engines and swung around alabaster pillars, resting their sultry foreheads. the cars kept to a crawl, leaving trails. then there were the walks, ever slower. through dusty trails with girlfriend and boyfriend ducks asaunter, waddling warily, worming. with friends. park benches, futons, car seat conversations. the quiet cool evening planning nothing but somehow ending up forty dollars deep and aretha franklin's advice was not heeded when think came up in karaoke.

and was not headed through the day when she thought to herself "i really need to write that poem"

so as you see, it cannot be helped, what's done is done, and the matter will go no further

unless there are updates.

sincerely,

morgan freeman

just like that sears commercial

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.