it’s hot outside but i’m chilling
sometimes a piercing cup of black coffee is delivered in ceramics patterned with red and blue hydrangeas, colors mulling about the mind, flowers on the cup are sweet enough to protect against the bitterness outside the window,
a dog barks at shadows, moths crowd the lights,
and all along the lot
men waft through the grass like lizards in tonged breath — sliding between cars and alleys licking about for the source of Summer’s bones
the men shift away the top layer like the film fastened above a coffee cup, water bakes away leaving only the fat until it burns too,
under the Floridian
sun.
