Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Week in Seven Words #77

Each car streams the heat from its exhaust pipe across my shins.

Time crumbles away in sweat, sleeplessness, and apathy.

The air presses down like an iron, smoothing my clothes flat onto my skin.

She makes her day sound exciting, each detail a delight, and something new to learn at every ordinary place she visits.

The leaves look like pieces of green stained glass. It's reassuring to see that even when the heat is brutal and they're scorched, they can still endure beautifully.

He argues into his cell phone, loudly and unselfconsciously, about the precise number of tissues he used the night before to blow his nose.

There's a little cell inside me, accessed by a hatch, and sometimes I disappear into it, curling up like a pillbug.