Slow Burn

Warmed by the concrete as it tries to shine like the sun. The tepid breeze indicates my time on this slab is slipping away quickly.

I handle the heat like a I handle conversations with a crush, with fret and eventual incoherence. My red cheeks so piqued they long to melt.

The quiet scream of bugs create a zen that thwarts my sweating discomfort.

I close my eyes and enter the orange world of midsummer. Recollecting the flowers before they became earth again.

Alas my scorching posterior and the drip of my hydrations undoing drives me inside.

As my visages crimson hue returns to flesh again, I guzzle a glass of the most satisfying water nature has ever created.

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