Fry an egg out there, hot as hell it is. We used clichés to gauge heat on the street. While our fathers were at work or at war, we opened the hydrant.
Bony knee kids and muffin top moms, we shed our clothes. Most of them anyway. First time I saw a filled out bra.
A lady everyone called aunt Millie, was our levelling presence. Leave your pecker alone and get in the game. Cold water do you good.
It was magic. It was the summer dad transferred and we left the city, but the heat never left me.
