Hotter ‘n Hell

Sweat trickled down my nose,

down my back,

over my chest,

dampening my once

laundered shirt.

I had to run in the

morning sun,

trying to catch a train

to get to my bane.

I missed it.

By

mere

milliseconds.

I ran back down from

the commuter train platform and

raced to the local

train the next block over.

Breathing heavy

and already a sweaty

mess of a man.

I rushed into the station,

paid my fare and got

stalled on the

escalator by the

walking dead.

I had to run up three

flights of stairs only

to just miss the next

local train

By

mere

milliseconds.

I sweat, there’s no denying

it. I can’t help it. It’s my genes.

I couldn’t stop while waiting for

the next train.

A salty puddle of out of breath

hotness, sitting on the next

train that came along,

wiping the copious wetness

off my nose and forehead

while trying to look put

together for all the pretty

married women I saw.

(and there were a few)

It was hot.

I wondered what I did to

deserve such hellish

morning treatment.

Then I remembered last night

and I wonder if she’s mad.

A sweaty man,

sitting in hell,

wondering about the

curses of the previous night.