"a guaranteed blast"
off-season while on brand by jake kilroy.

one summer in new york city
it got so hot our lips stuck together
from june's first jog to september's last ride;
my teeth ground down to snortable
from the tension gripping the power lines
ringing up gossipy calls,
mophead to gummed shoes,
each afternoon i went out for groceries,
blocks away from the a/c unit altar
we built to catch every degree drop
in the apartment of my redheaded sun
who wore overalls to paint the walls
a color as divine as a swimming hole.

our fever broke clean by sabbath sundown,
a night as loud as saturday morning in nolita;
we peeled each other off the sheets like paper dolls,
rough around the edges,
as fresh as old scars to new eyes,
showering as utility instead of winter heat,
and finally left our watercolor cosmos
to have a drink that wasn't from the fridge,
appalled i ever listened to the new yorkers
who begged me not to visit in summertime.