slush for brains

it's too hot to do anything. too hot to even complain. the cat and i shed all over the house, her leaving small tufts of short hair, me leaving long strands of black straw littered all over. we lie on the couch in a hot lump, losing hair and watching old movies on tv. it's too hot to lay there together, but we are comfy and don't want to move, so we lie there all melty and fussy, thinking about the timbre of gregory peck's voice and how we wish it would rain. at least, i'm pretty sure she's thinking the same thing. either that or she's thinking "anchovies."