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Odin odin@aflx.com

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Books
· Perceptions

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· Said and Unsaid - Vol 1

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· Patience Waning

· Ladle Lines (A prosetry memory)

· A Gentle Man

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· Gratitude

· A Sticky Conversation

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· The Kite That Would Not Bow

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· Truth is One


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· Cherishing Sounds of Silence

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· A Jungle-rain Pastorale

· Sediment Within the Soul

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Inner City Heat
By Odin odin@aflx.com
Last edited: Tuesday, July 25, 2023
This short story is rated "G" by the Author.
       
Recent stories by Odin odin@aflx.com
· Patience Waning
· Ladle Lines (A prosetry memory)
· A Gentle Man
· Pacing Love's Journey
· Gratitude
· A Sticky Conversation
           >> View all 367
With temperature records being broken around the world this summer, I’m reposting a reminder written 10 years ago that there is one manifestation of heat that transcends the body’s temperature tolerance and exacerbates limits of children’s minds. Today, priorities are becoming more and more complex. Hopefully, complexity doesn’t destroy the innate essence of who we are and where we’ve come from. (Image woodenkimonos)

 

Inner City Heat

 

“Momma, can I have a…”
“I’m running late.
Maybe tonight.”

“Daddy can we go to…”
“Maybe when I come visit this week-end.”

Daily door shut.
Daily silence.

“Charlie, can I hold you tight?”
Woof Woof, Woof Woof.

How goes it?
So goes it.
Video games before lunch.
Stick ball around three.
Cartoons run into supper.
Bologna and spam on mayo spread toast.
Little Wonder Bread meatballs for Charlie.
Flip on the cop shows…solitary.

The day behind me.
Clocks tick.
Faucets drip.
Toilet keeps running.

Fire escape beep horn street adventures drifting skyward.
NR rated neighborhood stories.
Red lights come on.
Spoke-wheels glitter through their turf.
Dudes sportin’ funny fur coats on hot summer nights.
Ice pick heels clickin’ city-slave songs.
Beer bottle hail storms.
Shard-sparkling drifts in gutter’s once flowing.
Just another day.
Just another night.

Grandma saunters in,
Complains of 3-flight routine,
“Bannister’s loose,” she says,
“Careful, or gonna break your butt one day.”
I says, “You makin’ fun?”
She says, “No, grandma just thinkin sad thoughts.
“C’mer, child,” she says. “You okay?”

Grandma’s eyes are palm trees and sunsets,
Tree huts and swimmin’ holes,
Wooded trails with Charlie a-runnin’,
Love without rules,
Love without boundaries.

“Can I have a hug, Grandma?

"Can I?”

 


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Reviewed by Ronald Hull
Reviewed on July 25, 2023
I seem to remember. Very poignant. But not very much, "Hot down, summer and the city, back of my neck gettin' dirty and gritty!"

Just remembered that back around the turn of the 20th century, men wore hats with sweat bands and in order to keep from having to wash their shirts every day, had the first white celluloid collars. Even bleach couldn't get some of that grime out of white shirt collars. Those were the days… Days when people dropped from the heat and were simply and quietly buried.

Ron