Everyone can blow out the stale breath they've been holding and enjoy a sigh of relief. The stifling mind crazed heat that brings out the demon even in the sanest of us has broke.
The hot child in the city can draw in a lightened air, thinned from idling cars, bus steam, and cigarette smoke plumes lofting in the thick clouds that cover New York's valuable real estate.
Just when the street walkers had reached a frenzied fever pitch of heat exhaustion, we were thrown into the cold showers to melt away the heavy rage that was cooking on a cement stove.
I sit at the park's edge counting raindrops and and observe the chronic shielding the storm under an awning.
Over a Cesar Salad, I watch not one, but three men unzip their pants and piss all over the base of a littered light pole.
Thankfully the smell of urine can't compete with the newly cleansed summer air.
I put this notion in the win column and ask for my check.
**I didn't bring my phone.
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