Sun Falls Quiet In Town

The warm season incites a madness
in warm bodies
chins upturned toward sky, goading rain or
something sweeter
dry tongues flick arid air
empty of everything but talk
of the weather
or how the earth can’t possibly
be round
the street – akin to sweat – waves
as beings pass, cross thresholds
to escape heat
crawl into cold sheets
wearing only sticky flesh
caress the fibers with calloused palms
and pull a comforter over themselves
anyway.
Fall asleep
sweating out the summer,
dreaming of something sweeter.

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