Bloody Boys

image borrowed from bing

Blood Boys

Since my normal body temperature is 101.4, half a degree hotter than most folks, one
could argue that I’m always running a low-grade fever.

But, in practical terms, it just means that mosquitoes, alert to my heat, swarm me and
only me in a crowd of people. If you want to have a bug-free experience, go camping or
to an outdoor summer concert with me.

My high body temperature also means that I sweat a lot.

Over the years, I’ve tried various wicking T-shirts, but have found that I defeat each of
them with my voluminous perspiration. So, when I’m traveling, I discard damp
undershirts in my hotel rooms and buy a new six-pack at the nearest Target or WalMart.

I imagine that the housekeepers bring the shirts home and launder them. I imagine there
are dozens of Mexican and Russian immigrant men wearing my second-hand T-shirts.

I wonder if they also look in the mirror and think the white T-shirts looks good against
their dark skin.

And maybe one of those men sweats like me. He’s sitting on the porch during a crazy
heat wave. Mosquitoes are going all Vlad-the-Impaler on him. He sees one on his arm,
but waits until the thing is obese with blood. Then he, quick-handed, smashes it. There is
blood and mayhem on his skin. He brings his arm to his mouth and eats the blood and
dead mosquito.

He thinks it all tastes lonesome.


Sherman Alexie

Posted over on Poemeleon