DOG DAY AFTERNOONS
Why do I remember the feel/of underclothes on skin/at two, at three? ---From “Each Question is Always the Same Question” by Luisa A. Igloria, Via Negativa, 08-11-11
We were young and had our hearts and heads
trapped in dreams of mansions in the sky---
we said we will get there somehow, not afraid
of taking on the wherewithals of getting there:
How could I have stayed in that graveyard shift
relaying news around the planet, and sowing
anger in sponge-like minds at the abbey’s
colegio de artes liberales at the peak of day?
How could I have crawled back to put the day’s
paper to bed on dog-day afternoons, and come
home to sweat-caked sheets thereafter? All,
all in one grabbing day to eke out this dream?
Could you ever forget the rush or feel of hastily
shorn underwear when we found ourselves
frenziedly marking time before we would rise
again to the hungry calls of earning a living?
At two or three, underclothes were our clothes.
---Albert B. Casuga