Opelika

Even the suit’s too hot.

Pale blue, rumpled, on my aunt’s screen door.

Seersucker.

Pink face flickering on a sign.

Wire baskets, fried chicken, checkerboard floor.

Piggly Wiggly.

My uncle hands me a Coke,

glass bottle, sweating.

The cousins talk over the cicadas.

Somebody says it’s always been this hot.

I mutter into the bottle.

Motherfucker.