The Girls of Winter

Out the window of the bar I’m watching a circle of girls stretching and yawning across the street. It’s late January and 74 degrees. They love the heat because they are a moist heat. Heat loves heat and today is a tease for what comes with spring around here when the glorious birds funnel back up from Mexico. The girls don’t care about birds because they are birds. I recall in high school a half dozen cheerleaders resting on a wrestling mat in short shorts in the gym, me beside them with a silly groin ache. What were they? Living, lovely, warm meat as we all are reaching out of our bodies for someone else.