dog day aftersummernoon
by Sina Evans
Cracked windows still in their frames, like summer. Fragile and magical and you just keep staring, not in disbelief because there's nothing here that can be disbelieved. Or believed for that matter. It just is. Cracked windows, summer heat, things that are.
Remember that Madonna video, she's on the boat and her hair's all curly, lips big and red. And she's walking but not walking down the stairs, stomping but like a girl, down the stairs in time to the music. I always wanted to walk like that, I thought that's how I'd end up walking as a grownup. It seems like it was summer then, short sleeves and boys on corners yelling at girls on other corners.
It's funny what you see when you're not really looking. Cats scuttling down blue alleys. The burned out green on south Sixth. New nets hung from rusty hoops. Dented yellow cabs and a straggled cabbie ready to roll out into a simmering night, armed with popsicle in hand.