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  • When the heat blisters and official summer is in two days,

    When heat hisses and official summer is yet two days away,

    When heat smokes and heat surfs like sodden sick yellow pollution over our splendid Wallenda Falls crossed Great Lakes,

    When pools are baubles and movies good for the public a.c.,

    When homeless stew in their sweat in the lees of the enclave dens of the repossessed frontages and the boarded up high-tone nabes,

    When one more chance is all it takes for that pugilist to make it,

    As his brain stops and all the moving pictures are stills, and when he moves his boxeo cabeza the neck hurts and his jaw is glued and will not unhinge,

    When the oasis today might be a simple coffee shop, not a cafe, and a simple counter which might bless you with old speckled sandy Arborite and old style white cups and that endless refill and her name has to be Betty or Ethel who waits so patiently,

    When June 21st is not yet on us, when the days grow shorter in official summer,

    When the weather chirpers at 6 a.m. had us in a 30 degree humidex, and when they are talking about that cool as warmed over cukes temps of 42 and 43 celcius (that's 108 in the Fahrenheit cucumber shade), later today,

    I think about going to the cottage----in winter.

    I put my mind into November, I put my head into icy thoughts of unheated buildings, and early snowfall and waking in the shapes of the trees and looking back in the early dim at the vertical construction of snow down in sundown.

    I think about the cottage in June, in November, walking hip high in fresh fallen.



    (Photo by Susan, November 1986)
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