Thursday, September 08, 2011

Memories of Heat

For L.

Back then we climbed
a split rail fence

shinnied sixteen-year-old
limbs onto a tarred black

porch roof, stripped naked
and laid our fulsome bodies

down until the heat drove
us elsewhere. It was 1980.

We both had decade old
domestic skin melting scars.

The coffee. The ironing.

Accidental warming
beyond our control.

We took physics and learned
that heat is an entity.

There is no such thing as cold.

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