re: midday heat

with a sigh, he sinks into the pavement. the temperature on the bank index flashes 96 degrees. there is nothing for him to do in this town of limited activity. school is out and not set to start for another month. he has recently been laid off from his job at the grocery store because of budget cuts.

so here he sits for several hours. his girl companion hums familiar tunes as she sketches fairy-like figures in a well-worn sketch book. eventually the heat overtakes him and the humming lulls him into a shallow sleep.

he does not dream. neither asleep nor awake. he would, if he understand the meaning of the word, consider himself content. the world is not wholly good or bad to him, just blissfully spinning one day into the next.

there is truth, also, in all those things he doesn't see. the hard poverty his parents endure, and that he will experience in the coming years as an adult. he will graduate high school, with no aspirations beyond the corner grocery, smoking camels on the corner, drinking beer on a friend's patio. he will marry, which may end in divorce, or worse, too many mouths to feed.

but for now, he is content. and even he is not blind to the importance of the here and now.