Heat. Heat
like the full month of July stuffing itself
into these few final days. We wilt, melt all along the sidewalk,
ice cream in hand. The babies crying. The girls
with their eyeliner smudged, everyone sticky
and swatting at flies.

Then the temperature drops,
suddenly,
and the wind rises
and lifts all our chins
and turns us all as sure as weathervanes,
the whole street paused, swung 'round
and tilted
west towards the onrushing clouds,
the first spattering drops of rain.