Thursday, July 27, 2006

Think of Water on a Hot Day

No, I'm not as hot as someone in the desert, but I am hot and the humidity is fierce.

Think of something else.

I remember taking a rowboat out, daydreaming, and finding myself tied up in lily pod roots. I recall swimming in Lake Susan in North Carolina and dubbing that the coldest water until I swam at Sand Beach in Acadia National Park.

Once I sat on a drift log and waited for the sun to set and fall into the Pacific Ocean.
I've dragged my toes through the soft mud on the bottom of a pond, avoided a snapping turtle, and listened to frogs court.

Today I went down to Cambridge, drank my cold water, bought a bottle of iced sparkling water and wondered how the people who fall in the cracks—the homeless, the working poor, the mentally ill—survive. I read of the one hundred deaths in California and thought of how those deaths broke down in terms of economics, ethnicity, and age.


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