| Poetry |
Cedar Swelter
There are those days
When you’re weaving in a car, glued to the vinyl,
the sun bouncing off buildings into your eyes.
And you finally make it to the river,
only to find it has dried up for the year.
So you sit in a house,
with all the windows open,
in your underwear,
fanning yourself with a road map,
at six in the evening.
Chasing whiskey with a mixture of iced tea and lemonade.
Sweating with a dog.
Eventually the heat wins.
Frozen,
you can no longer lift the glass to your mouth,
and your eyelids give way to the river of sweat.
As they close,
tejano drifts from across the alley,
fusing with the sound of cheerleaders jumping on a trampoline .
Those are the days I think Goddamnit I love Texas.
by Josh Permenter
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