7.21.10

i could easily have stayed there, in air-conditioned comfort, reading of solitary anarchist anger, but the cats were calling my name. i packed up bags of sandy sneakers and torn jean shorts, beach-read books barely fitting in the backpack, and walked out into the heat. my bangs, already sweaty, stuck to my forehead and my glasses slid down my nose with each step. thrift-new sneakers, though pre-worn, still had yet to be molded to my feet. my bookbag straps dug into burned and peeling shoulders; little red lines betrayed the injury. i paused the journey (after five minutes) by stopping in the corner shop for, yes, herr's + heinz ketchup flavored ripple chips. new low? the red 40 dust covering my fingers screamed junk fix. i think it's time to stop eating artificial flavoring.