Daydream

Right now I’m sitting in a small cottage in Austin, with the windows open and the warm breeze rustling the leaves of the surrounding trees. Birds are chirping intermittently and the whir of a far-off lawn mower ebbs and flows as it carves lanes in someone’s American dream. The room is dark and the fan is buzzing; the glass next to my foot sweats as does my brow. My books are piled high but I’m in no rush to finish them. It’s a weekday, maybe a Wednesday, maybe a Thursday, but that hardly matters. The dog, lying on his back, exhales the heavy air and the next door neighbor is learning to play the harmonica. A phone rings, a real phone that is mounted on the kitchen wall, but it’s too hot outside to talk so the ring persists unrelentingly. Einstein said that time slows down as velocity increases but I’m of the opinion that temperature is an important variable that he must have neglected. Night will fall, eventually, and everyone will slowly emerge from their caves. Bicycles will rattle down to the corner store and barbecues will begin.