The sun
rests low and sullen
in the west, the heat of the seat
sticks my towel to my back
I feel the tassels scratching
between my shoulder blades,
travelling home in the car
heat sits on the chest
like a heaving dog
windows down but the wind
causes lips and cheeks to blister
no relief
the sand caught in places not wanted
but being squashed between brothers
hands cannot ease the discomfort
of grains rubbing against skin as if my flesh
was the lamp of a bothered genie.
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