Most won’t run in “normal” temps; I run best in advisories, while injured, after a cigarette.
Sweet putrid smells greet the nose, as it goes, in the air around this city.
Noon, as we steadily increase to terminal dew point, a midday jungle hell, all the populous feels and knows, pressures build as dead swell.
Praying a fast hour to follow.
An almost empty glass bottle, wood-corked, lay with remnant rose’ along the side of sweltering asphalt streets.
Bike frames lacking single tires, basement doors easily unlocked, the city is almost barren, inside to air-conditioning, and fans, people flock.
There are three places to find relief: first, the library, second, the basement, and third, the beach.
Bring water and a small dirty sheet.
Sand, or leather chair-suit your fancy, free yourself of cares.
Less words, more discrete, fast on feet, on a mission, thoughts of cold sleep.
The only objective is to beat the heat.
Weather mental-disease; fight the condition, and remember to breathe.
Thoughts of comfort released.
Shirtless again, three showers later, and I still sit in wet.
It is too hot to feel defeat.
Times like these we forget.