Sticky Cool
It's a sticky cool summer evening
on the terrace.
One sticks to the chair a little
but there's enough of a breeze
barely a zephyr but enough
to imagine
that one is someplace exotic
especially because the
father and son having dinner
nearby are speaking in a
mysterious language.
So while I wait for my son to
finish baseball practice down
the road I am far away
drinking water on a terrace
urbane and alive
at one with the sticky cool
universe.
July 21, 2008
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