I was in Mississpi for a minute,
maybe even hell.
That's how hot it was.
Drenched in our own sweat
to the point the droplets of our own condensation
Dripped heavily down our temples.
To crack a window would've released my heavy gasping
To open a door would've exposed the sweet seduction that was us becoming one in the driver's seat.
Making a car rock like a boat while my ocean was being sailed trying to make it to the lighthouse,
That sweet lighthouse that all sailors would aim to get to during the storms, and this storm was man made. My man made it.
Soaked in our sweat it was as if hell temporarily had sprinklers.
Most people don't make it out of hell alive or try to escape as soon as possible
Well we stayed until dusk turned to dawn, and when the windows finally cracked,
our Mississippi River was released in steam and
became cold on our clothes.
As my unbuckled sandal hit the pavement
I stumbled back into Wisconsin from Mississippi.