It’s easy to ignore a heat wave when you’ve got the big questions. Such as: can’t people be wrong about why they believe things? But even big questions aren’t foolproof. There are storytellers, fuckers, etc. Get caught in the wrong heat and you turn all hymn of the yawn you. Swedes start calling things thigh cookies, and others engage in the practice of mapping and naming lunar mountain ranges. So this is a heat for you to fit yourself under yourself, for green honey in the heart. For us to start saying things like “When I say you are my one and only I mean it in the way I mean it when I say I know how to change a tire.” For ramming into the blank and unblinking of heat with a wishful thinking wrought in anti-oppression declarativeness: “The quality of rain is that it occurs first of all where we are.” Wingspans become appetites, the future becomes a mystery school for adults. The grocery store becomes the grocery stores from all your favorite movies. Your horse becomes a horse you would like to have pictures with, and cereal bars a stand-in for affection. Last time I checked, this is an upturned-pocket kind of world, and why would you keep your matches in a world like that?