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He sat in the hot car, windows rolled up, desperate for a cold coke. He thought about the beads of condensation running down the sides of the can, the crack as it opened, the gentle wisp of mist that came out of the opening, tipping it back and pouring it all over his face, his forehead, veins throbbing with the sudden change of temperature, instant headache, blinding, hands pounding against the side of his head to stop the impossible pain, white hot, non-human, a low keening sound coming from deep inside his throat, deep inside his empty belly, twisted in knots and bending him against his will, spine cracking with resistance, bowels churning as he falls to his knees and the hot asphalt biting into his skin, a sudden stab of pain shooting up his legs, ricocheting off the pain in his head and making him fall over on his side, and the hot tar of the road burning his arms, his shoulder through his t-shirt, causing him to spasm to jump up, to suddenly open his eyes blind in the white-hot brightness of the midday summer sun, staggering towards a curb, tripping and falling onto the fresh cut grass between the street and sidewalk, craving it's sweet coolness, rolling over in it, wanting to consume it, pressing his face into as if to transfer his pain into each blade, and then afraid that doing so will set the grass on fire, recoiling from the leaping flames, hands clawing at the heat melting his eyes, cheeks pulled back in a rictus of agony, weightlessness as his balance goes and he falls back towards the roadway, landing with a heavy thud that knocks the breath out of him, gasping for air and struck amazed by how he could still smell himself, smell the tangy musky stink of sweat, the throat-cloying dirt of the melting tar, the sweet pungent perfume of the cut grass, the coppery bite of blood running out of his nose, his knees, twin spots of red hot hurt unable to flex as he rolls over, pushes brittle hands onto the rough road to come up standing, dizzy from the elevation change and spinning, stumbling, missing the curb this time and almost dancing over the grass, the cracked sidewalk, another patch of grass and finally tripping on a gnarled tree root, tackling the tree trunk, hugging it, feeling his gorge rise with the impact and his dizziness and all those smells and blood in his eyes and ants from the tree bark running over his hands, shaking them as violently as he can still unable to scream until he catches his breath and afraid to do so because of broken ribs and flying ants going into his lungs while his nose twitches and his eyes blink rapidly against his will and one flailing hand caught and wrapped around a low-hanging branch, a long leaf stem like a serpentine vine around his hand and his gyrations causing him to feel as if it's pulling him up, yanking his arm and dislocating his shoulder and dangling him just inches above the ground where the ants run greedily around the drops of blood and his ears ring with the loudness of a dog barking, chained to the tree and biting at his ankles, his toes trying to find the ground, kicking the dog and the tree branch leaf stem breaking and dumping on the ground on top of the dog making it yelp and run away whining until it hits the end of its chain, snapping it up and into his face making him bite his tongue bite his cheek one eye closed against the harshness one eye opened as wide as it can be despite the dirt falling all around from the tree from the bark ants swarming his bloody shoes his jeans as he kicks crazily at them missing them all but driving his heel into his own shin the dog coming back to bark his ears sloppy with the dogs angry saliva him bending at the waist to sit up to push the dog away to brush the ants from his legs to stand up to run across the grass the sidewalk the grass the street ignoring the screech of the tires of a car barely not hitting him as he slams into his own car, red hot, wrenches at the handle, rips fingernails to the quick and finally gets in and slams the door and lies there on the seat panting and sweating and heaving until finally after a while he's still and the day is still the heat is a heavy blanket on top of him and he cannot move the ache in him is a heavy blanket and he's so hot and he's thinking about a cold can of coke.
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