Oppressive heat, high humidity, sweat soaks
my shirt, a triangle of perspiration forms in front.
July makes us call a cab. The doorman hears our
destination and says, Get the chili cheese fries,
milkshakes are awesome, half smokes, real good.
The cab driver is full of suggestions too, a tour guide
on our way to U Street he points out the party zone,
a Presidential mural, Adams Morgan’s best place to
have dinner, but he’s the most amused by a building
with a two story painted cartoon, a red headed lady.
He grows impatient with a construction crew waving
an orange flag to tell him to go, but the light is red.
He tells us he didn’t sleep much last night and when
another cab cuts him off, he mouths- Don’t make me
get out, I will fight- especially if you flip me the bird.
He notices a fine looking woman, a short linen dress,
a general lack of clothing, confesses he likes winter boots
but ladies never look better in this city than in the summer.
He says we’re brave for wanting to eat at Ben’s Chili Bowl,
admitting he’s gastronomically challenged now at his age.
