on the hottest night of the year
lifts itself up and floats in the air
The teens come
at the tail end of a sweltering August
to watch the liquid mass
unslurp from muddy foundations
hang four or five meters in the air
illuminated by headlights
The pond rises and sways, wind-rippled
a gelatinous mirror ball waiting to fall
shatter back to earth
in a glittering collapse
The ducks
sleep on the shore
quacking and grumbling
at the rowdy teens
hooting and yelling and cartwheeling
They dare each other
to go down into the muddy lakebed
and stand for as long as possible
Except this year it is two boys
who hold hands and squelch their way across the ground
looking up into the shimmering blob
full of shadowy fish
darting around
confused by the whole thing
There’s a way in the south
where the heat sticks to you in beads
the air over-infused with water
bodies become permeable
Already, those two
are expanding
tethered to each other
steeped in each other
When the water stops rising and breaks
they are ready
they are already
one