Consuming August

Tending to my daily duty 
to Yeats’s dying animal — 
the mortal body we 
each are fastened to — 
I put in time on my sturdy 
Schwinn recumbent exercise bike 
listening to an Audible audiobook. 

Now I am as hot and sweaty 
as when stepping out of a steamy 
shower without feeling clean or squeaky. 

How I hate the heat until those days 
when it radiates to fight the chill inside 
come blue-hued winter mornings. 

But this being August, 
I grab bottled relief from the freezer. 
I switch my blue ice-water bottle 
from right hand to left and back again. 

After minutes, it chills my palms; 
seconds later, the blue cylinder 
love-bites my fingers with its frost. 

Drinking a few mouthfuls of ice water, 
some internal thermostat clicks 
and I feel a change come over me 
as cold quenches my thirsty throat. 

But heat still drenches my body 
so much that my ass is sweating — 
despite the AC blowing full throttle — 
until time holding onto the bottle 
slowly helps me feel comfortable 
in my dripping skin once again. 

Wiping stinging sweat from my eyes, 
with relief I focus on the proud words 
on the blue transparent bottle. 
Made in the USA. 
God bless the land-of-the-free worker 
(or machine) who made this BPA-free. 

Throughout the day, 
but especially before I exercise, 
I stick the bottle in the freezer 
until ice crystals form. 

Sometimes, I forget it there 
and it freezes too much. 
Then it has to sit with me in the heat. 
It sweats as much as I do, 
which is a lot. Like a pig, as they say. 
Although I have never seen a pig sweat. 

When enough liquid sloshes 
around the melting iceberg 
within, I shake it, then drink. 
It is gloriously arctic. 

Iceberg inside, like a ship in a bottle, 
headed with a carved wooden angel, 
transports me to a temperate landfall. 

I’m on a keto diet that likes sea salt. 
So, into the bottle’s big mouth — 
almost as large as mine — 
I concoct a version of Bradbury’s 
potent medicine for melancholy 
to slake my quenchable thirst. 

Not a delicate dandelion wine 
but a something-wonderful-this-way-comes 
good witch’s cold brew of filtered water, 
pinch of Celtic Sea — or Redmond Real — Salt, 
a lemon’s fresh-squeezed juice, 
and drops of sugar-free electrolytes. 

Tart, salty, and ice cold, 
this glacial ambrosia refreshes 
my hot tongue and dry mouth. 
I let it linger before swallowing. 

I savor it more than I once enjoyed 
sipping a crisp Chardonnay 
back in the days of wine and hangovers. 

My entire body cools down 
from holding it while drinking. 
A really cool thing, almost magical, 
although science — physics, actually — 
called “conductive heat transfer.” 
Listen to me, trying to sound smart. 
The heat’s definitely got to my head. 

The familiar cat in the house 
looks alertly when I shake 
the frosty water bottle. 
Her amazing eyes track 
every droplet of condensation 
that whirls off into the air. 
She is poised to jump 
but sees no prey worth chasing. 

Her bright eyes gaze into mine 
then casually look away with indifference. 
But I imagine that the cat’s inscrutable nature 
somehow senses that these rabid dog days 
are only going to get worse from here on out. 

I’m relieved I discovered a personal remedy, 
because no one else seems to 
have a freaking, fracking clue 
what to do about the flaming future 
but to continue waking up every day 
and doing what they did yesterday. 

I think maybe I need to order another 
Nalgene Wide Mouth 32-ounce Water Bottle 
“with easy-to-use screw-top, loop-top lid.” 
Fifteen bucks for relief seems reasonable — 
as long as there’s drinkable water 
and a working cold freezer to put it in. 

I wonder which color 
should I purchase this time? 

Decisions!