the heat blows through my bedroom window and makes itself comfortable. i have no heater and no a/c in this hollywood bungalow and sometimes i need a little fan.
and sometimes i need a little space heater but im about to rent a beater and drive around tonight with the windows down and count the shooting stars and think about ice cream bars, theres drumsticks and popsicles and bomb pops and push ups and strawberry shortcakes and chocolate eclairs, mickey mouses, choco tacos
the ones with the gumballs on the bottom, the ones with the quarters in the middle, the ones with the peanuts on the top.
ice cream sandwiches and eskimo pies. soft serve. triple scoop.
when i was a kid and this is how long ago ive been walking around, they used to have at baskin robbins this thing called the super heater, three scoops of ice cream, hot chocolate, nuts and whipped cream in a cup for ninety nine cents and it seemed like a lot of money and it seemed like a lot of ice cream, but it was four video games so i would always think about the super heater but i would always pass.
except once when my mom bought me one after grocery shopping. and i couldnt believe my amazing luck.
i need a new pair of shorts. all i have are swim trunks which are fun to wear as shorts in the summer but chris always rolls her eyes when i wear em.
its hot, hi summer. if i was smart i would shut the windows and turn this thing back into a cave. a cool dark cave where the lovely ladies in their summer dresses will sit down and cross their legs and try to act all demure but my demure detector doesnt overheat
like my candy bag on top of the microwave
next to the window.