Thursday, September 27, 2007

Sticking to things


This is how hot it is outside: I'm staring at this fly that’s so still I wonder if it's been fossilized -- no, not fossilized -- what is it? Oh, I don't know -- burnt to death, I guess, but how does it stay balanced on the railing of the fire escape? Its eyes are so red, I wonder if my eyes are red too. Oh, there it goes -- onto my foot -- I shake my foot, there it goes again, further away this time.

I guess it's not too hot for the fly, but it's too hot for me -- I'm sitting with my back to the sun but still I'm sweating in nothing but boxers, have to preserve my subtle Northern California glow, even on the shoulders -- right? Whatever -- usually I can sit out here forever, but today 15 minutes is exhausting. I'm back inside where even the bathroom isn't chilly -- usually there's a whole other micro-climate going on there, since this is San Francisco, but today it's warm there too. The bottoms of my feet are sweating, sticking to things: hair, plant remains, glitter, red lint, gray lint, dirt, red onion skin, soot from outside I guess. Oh, wait -- there's way more on the right foot: tiny pieces of plastic from maybe a price tag hanger thing, bigger pieces of leaves, more of the grimy black stuff, something slightly gooey, a big bright piece of magenta glitter.

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