full of moxie and viscosity

The Fresno Summer Night
"Smells a little chlorinated," I think as I walk out my front door. It's not chlorine. It's grass and heat. I can't even describe this smell. It's every summer I've ever lived.
LA smells dirtier, nastier, sexier.
Boston is pasty, sludgy, wet.
Fresno is oven warm and breezy and-
How the hell do you describe something you grew up with? It's like trying to describe a laugh or a smile or- the way you feel inside your dad's arms. It's here, now, away, then.
Impossible.


-Summer 2003