It’s hotter than the tempers
in an old mining town.
A cracked hose crawls
bravely across the dirt yard
to the lone, yellow leafed tree.
Will you live through this
parched marathon of the spirit,
and find wisdom waiting
by the Gatorade table?
You lift your sweaty glass: to hell
with questions.
The electric fan
is a storm in a bird cage.
The fish are
all dead.
The cat’s belly up in the tub.