Fictional Journal: Vol 6


It’s hotter than the Dickens

Along this downtown stretch.

I’ve read the man before,

Traveled to both of his cities,

But this hellish heat is becoming

A daydreamy nightmare of sorts.

My mouth is telling me it’s parched,

By throwing a temper tantrum and

Drying itself out completely.

Don’t get me wrong,

Foot-to-heel movement is what I love,

Frankly it’s a thing I do most admirably

In life, but the more the sun sticks to

Me, the more I want to escape to that

White glow pole. You know, the one

With those fluffy bears drinking soda

Pop. An island man offered me a beer

Not long ago and I told him to beat it.

Tried to hustle straight currency out of

Me and I won’t allow myself to be

Vulnerable to that. If a vending machine

Comes into view, I’ll run to it and

Volunteer my last remaining energy

follicle. The sudsy carbonation of a

Crisp, cool aluminum can would provide

A subtle escape hatch out of this fiery

maelstrom.

(Photo taken by me.)

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