the feel of rough wood on bare feet, the ringed stain a cold glass leaves on the railing, damp hair... summer sleeves. things have turned green. things are turning brown. the muddy mississippi slugs slowly past the city full of catfish and gasoline. trucks pass by overhead hauling Chevrolets and countless cases of "Bud Select". men marvel at the heat and drink mojitos on shaded patios.
birds melt into small puddles on the sidewalk. footprints turn to steam and mix with the humidity in the already saturated air. a dragonfly landed on my car windshield and burnt his many feet. i promptly sprayed him with washer fluid with only the best of intentions. he flew away with water-leadened wings. everything is pliable and hot to the touch. plants come here to die. st. louis summer summer.