DOG DAY AFTERNOONS

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

08-12-11