heat seekin

i been hankerin, longing for the heat, the nights where i can cruise around till 3 in a tshirt under the orange glow of the moon and streetlights, breakin a little cooling sweat as i crank down on the pedals of my bike powered by the bbq i had hours earlier.
in the moments and years of playin in the texas heat, it never inkled that i might one day look back on it romantically. here ive been, though, safe in my left coast organic bubble, wishin i had just one texas day.
i'd go for a drive. maybe with a joint, maybe with a can of drpepper. all windows down, even when the road gets dusty. just whizzing by waving grass and decrepid semi-abandoned outbuildings and inbuildings and fallen signs and barbedwire. ancient staring glaring longhorn cattle. go get some bbq from a side of the road shack or in an old smoky rebuilt redecked reporched expanded elongated grub barn with yellow news clippings and photos in a compounded cram on the walls, cobwebs full of dust and cigarette ash, old man waitin for your order in a rickety recliner behind the greasy counter.
go barefoot on the screaming fizzing asphalt to assist in the cooking-off of the recently ingested gutbomb, to any store on the square just to meander around for a bit enjoying the bliss of air-conditioned digestion.
sit on the porch and watch the yahoos gaggle around as a thunderhead rolls in, gently sucking up the stagnant hot air and pushing the sun to a saturated concentration where it searches for a balance between succumbing to the approaching big greygreenblack buffalo and running fast to the other side of the horizon. but with feet on the porchrail, exhausted dog underneath, it's hypothesized that the sun wants to hold its ground as the cloud elastically pushes through it, then it can blast back out the other side with the kinetic energy of all the passing friction, and throw all that extra energy down on our heads in protest to bighaired ladies' attempts to run and hide in freon malls and inflated SUVs.
and after the big yellow sets in a pink and purple horizon stew, we'll keep on, fueled by a refreshing wade and wander in an overgrown creek, and the excitement of the impossibility of heatexhaustion. the streets are dead, and the critters are out, and the plants are singing relief and the grass is cool earth is warm- just right for a spontaneous starviewin party. whistle with a grass blade an holler at the moon. with a good ol pal.