Heat Dreaming and Waving

For the second day running, Seattle's withstood near ninety degree afternoons, and hot dry nights with every window in the city thrown open. And how intimate this city becomes then. Not merely that its citizens walk about in as much dishabille as the law'll permit, but further that, with every window thrown open, every sound of our private lives is shared as far as sound will travel. Last night, recovering from a fever that'd stricken three-fourths of my family, I was kept awake by fights, orgasms, exaltations, sighs, music, telephones, and closing time noises from everywhere in a three block radius at least; and though I desperately wanted to sleep or maybe not, I rejoiced in these sounds. How well I suddenly knew these neighbors I'd never meet. How surely had I been these people at one time or another, in this city or the other. Today as I walked around Capitol Hill with my lady and our babe, I examined everyone we passed, and thought, "You gave me something last night you'd be reluctant to admit--didn't you?" And sure enough, nobody admitted nothin'. And now it's another night.