Summer: A Moment in the City

Through the stench and the heat, they meander on in singles and pairs. They are intent on destinations only they themselves could know. Some are as fat as cattle and bloated like whales. Others are so thin and emaciated, the perspiration swelters and sweats off them as if it comes from their very bones. The joggers glide by in their tight and colorful shorts, glued snug to apple-round posteriors. Dangerously thick perfumed women turn the corners, enter the shops, and bend down to take quick, courteous sips of cool water from the fountains. Street vendors sell their inexpensive wares--catcalling and hooting at the crowds.

The entire world stinks of mustard, ketchup, sex, and cheap beer.

Here, and there, white vanilla and dark chocolate ice-cream smears a few innocent and smiling faces. A stray dog angrily chases a frightened cat up a fence. Absurd and insane pigeons bolt away to nearby park benches.

A hobo sleeps and dreams in the sweet, green grass. The flies and insects dance madly on his chest.

The hot and riotous summer sun sits high in the sky, effortlessly omniscient, and oblivious to it all.