Swelter

Warm breezes blow painfully across a Louisiana winter,

I wait patiently for the pouring of coolness.

Obsessed am I with a novel idea-

Winter in New Orleans.

All three days of winter were unbearably frosty.

I didn’t stay warm, but it was not cool-

Temperatures seek extremes, drive me to madness,

And toast my solitude.

Where is my comfort?

The temperate climates of the Earth

Where pleasure is commented by warmth,

And the condition of the air supplants a state of the mind.

I am in the Cajun Summer,

I will abide in the tranquility of being comfortable with these horrid vapors.

Gray matter will boil out past the glistening ear tops then drip effortlessly to the floor.

Where tiny mercurial pools dance silently-

Into

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