We warp in the heat,

buckle beneath the buzz

of thick cut air

pressing in on all sides.

Can’t blame trains

for stumbling.

As unsteady on tracks

as we are.

Yesterday they seemed

straighter, smoother, solid.

Today everything is

melting,

running into gutters.

I would stop too.

Choke my mixed signals

and lurch into whatever

station offered refuge.

Poem for the hottest July day on record.