Ivy '06: Slow Burn

Slanting in chairs on the boardwalk
legs up, hats down
open-faced book dozing draped across one thigh
arms bent resting
a dusty table supporting a pair of hands and a checker board
the pieces move one or two an hour
forging little headway against the unrelenting sun
like the townsfolk shuffling across the street
wilted by the echoing heat
lace melting on sticky throats
starched shirts soaked with the only moisture of the day

Behind the cover of whiskey glasses, grit slick and sweating
fingers kiss gently
Small smiles crease their mouths
teasing sweat to trickle under collar

They savor the slow burn