It was so hot yesterday
My armhair sweat,
My eyes were looking
Through a plastic bag,
My teeth were saturated.

I found the wind
Beneath the Bluewater Bridges
At the headwaters of the St. Clair.
Here I can relax my skin,
Watch the gulls maneuver,
Like your kite, Aine,
Against and with the blusters,
Gaining dive speed to vault the trestles.

The sun is burning my bones,
My blood rushes at four knots
With Huron's mouth.
I straddle the Shadow
To follow the birds,
Thinking of winter
I release a high-pitched laughing scream
That's carried back to the bridges
With my flapping shirt tails
Providing drag.

hot sweats slowly trickling down my face
temperature boiling like a sauna
my face feels hot like the sun and its probably burning with the same heat
my breath has picked up, just like my heart rate
currently its only you in my presence and you're the only source of heat
now, I'm not saying I'm in love but its winter and you've got me in a **cold hard sweat

Long car trips
Crowded with junk
And cramping legs
Flashing light streaming through the window
Into the muggy car air,
A trapped fly banging on the glass,
Low rumbling like gravel thunder
And bursts of shaking
Rattling teeth and seatbelts
When you roll over stones
Wisps of vented air
Curling around your naked toes,
And sweaty, rumpled clothes.
Skin sticking to fake leather seats
The slight sifting sick in your belly
Sitting fat like a toad,
And hoping the stuff in the back
Isn't shaking or breaking apart
From the crunching washboard gravel,
And drowsy eyes, tired from endless trees
Slowly drift until you arrive in the dark

Craggy rocks gasping silently
Thrusting up small trees
With fluttering leaves,
And dust rising violently
Studded with dry bugs

The sun beats down,
And heats tempers
Glaring in eyes
Boiling blood
The breeze rustles trees
And teases our sweaty labours
Until we find refuge in the shade,
Then work again

HOT WHEELS.
I went from broke to buying a Lamborghini,
Price tag not so teeny,
Sleek and black, for my driving academy,
Or should  I buy the red Ferrari?
Command a salesman to "comprare"?
Wouldn't he be a happy chappy?
But would it make me happy?
I could be buying loads of stuff,
But when you're old, you've got enough!
To me, consumerism is in vain,
My peaceful simple life in the slow lane.
So, today I did not buy the red Ferrari,
Or indeed the sleek Lamborghini,
There was no Hot Wheels Driving School,
Consumerism as a manipulative tool.