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Taut across my path the wire, unexpected, trips me

                                                     Trips me over my complacency

The wire

                                 trips me

so that I



I fall

                    and land


I fall


                       in love

Hot Day in New York

It was one of those days when everything stuck to everything else, cloyed and clung, dripped and oozed. Blouse to back, palm to door handle, thigh to taxi seat. Candy hated it.

Winter she could cope with. The fur boots with snuggly mink-collars, ankle length coat and ear muffs - but this heat, this godamned, sticky heat was threatening to melt her away.

And she felt so dirty. What was it with summertime that it made a person feel dirty? Wasn’t summertime supposed to be all happy and leisurely, joy-joy-joy, a feel-good season?

Not in New York it ain’t.  Candy wiped perspiration from her eyes and pulled her silk blouse in and out, away from her chest, fanning herself with its wet folds.

Here on the corner of Parker and 16th she could smell the dirt; decay, auto fumes, rancid frying, steam from the Woo Fat Laundry which contracted all the hospital linen, god she hated every noseful and tried hard not to breathe in.

The lights changed and everyone walked, quickly even thought the heat was enervating, quickly to get to the shops and offices and the blessed, blessed air conditioning.

Copyright (c) 2005 L D Finn


Whau River, Waitakere
Photo copyright (c) 2004 L D Finn

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