The outside heat
like flies into an apartment.
My bones are wrapped in felt blankets.
We try to steal cold from tomatoes and mozzarella
And now it’s time for ice cream
….As it was a few hours ago.
A small delight.
More sweaty clothes are washed and hung to dry
in this dryer we’re currently inside.
Each morning is an expedition
the air already
thick and heavy
Heaving back up the hill with emergency provisions
We’ve installed a wading pool in the bathroom for my son.
At night I stand in the kitchen,
actually glad to wash dishes.
I let the cool water splash and soothe where it can.
In the building across from us
people sit on their balconies, silhouettes framed by their apartments’
warm orange light — might as well be flames.
The thermometer reads
32 degrees (Celsius, bien sûr)
but the real proof of the heat:
even the true Parisians
are wearing short sleeves.