Dog Daze

I associatie summers with sweat.  Not hard-working, out-of-breath, honest-labor sweat, but unearned sweat, windfall sweat, the kind of sweat that appears on a milk glass when you pull it out of the fridge.

You step outside.  You stand perfectly still.  And you sweat.

Maybe it's not even sweat, just a kind of genera summer effluvium, like dew on morning grass. 

Or it's freedom, not sweat, a byproduct of the chemical reaction between your life's routines and warmer weather, the customary gone liquid, wetting the back of your neck and knees, running in rivulets down the small of your back.

I love these sticky days.  The cicadas swarm and the crickets chirrup and every hour lasts longer than you think it can.