it’s hot out

a ripe ninety-three I
keep a window open-
just gets hotter.
the ice cream moans
down the cracking street:
little ones run and trip
past an open window-

and it’s hot out.

I don’t know how to cool
chew an ice cube maybe
I think of our cool spring
running down the roaring,
rain showering street
I turn to her
she smiles, she wipes
the rain off my rained-on cheeks
in the ice cream shop.
sitting in that misty night
while we watch that rain patter,
with our misty eyes
in our cool spring.

but it’s hot out.