The streets are unbalanced
Tipping with weight of pedestrians
Who gravitate to the side less touched by sun.
We seek shade.
Squares, plazas, seats,
Full in the morning shade
Ghosted by afternoon sun.
Life clusters under shelter.
Even then
The indecision of the breeze
Makes shaded relief temporary.
Walking. Dripping.
Museums, libraries, info centers.
Cool wisps of air beckon enticingly
From their briefly opened doors
Whispering a single promise.
Air conditioning.
But the sun is life
And the blue is joy
And the spring that feels like summer
Of 94 degrees in November
Leads to one conclusion.
It's slurpee season.
(Tapped in the shade at 37"49'05.47S 144"58'07.99E)
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