Heat it comes. In Houston. Summer Houston. This one time I went to Phoenix and heat there was heat that stabbed you. It was like you were being stabbed. Not in Houston where heat happens like a great submersion instead, in paraffin wax maybe, or in napalm. I’m not sure. It is hard for me, just thinking up similes in this heat, but that’s probably the gist of it. Yes. Submersion.
I was going down to the law library yesterday, and walking, and the heat was making everyone crazy. I had this feeling that everyone was melting or crazy.
A man up on the rail platform on Main stomped. He stomped. He dared us to look at him. You could see this man wanted to fight, or I could see, anyway. He accused us all of doing things with our mothers. Repeatedly. Angrily. “C’mon, you motherfuckers!” he said, “You wanna fight? You wanna fight?” and his fists were up and he was lurching at strangers.
None of us – old pros, I guess – made eye contact.
I wanted to say “This never happens in January,” but I did not say “This never happens in January” because I did not wish to fight the man on the rail platform on my way to the law library.
Some Metro cops came by and the man ran away but it’s only May and we still have six more months of submersion.