Outside the door the world is hot and steamy. What better way to say it? The time that follows a summer late afternoon thunderstorm that can’t refresh with cooling breezes from the north that blew the rain across the day. From the south this came, but without the ocean wind for strength and diminishing degrees. No, this meandered up through the southern belt as if revenge is still a dying issue and the the weather marked by marching Rebel boots. Now all is wet, and in the lingering July heat, steamy. Or maybe foggy with the smoke of rifle fire.
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When I walked out of the courthouse yesterday, which itself was barely cooled by an ancient a/c system, and the hot, wet, air assaulted me, only one word came to mind: MEMPHIS.
Only there I had a pool to jump into.
Hmm, see here’s your creative side at work, and memory too. The word Memphis sounds like hissing steam.