A hot day around the water cooler

[Thunderembargo]

It was her turn to say it above the air bubble,               
we had already agreed it was too hot to breathe
without making your top lip sweat.
Her body had melted flowers down one arm,
they wrapped around a bright blue bird,
far too still for it to be real, it rippled with each sip.

We didn’t think she was allowed
but the window opened anyway.
Closing her eyes she made the breeze
find us, lifting our dog heads
to sniff the open quarter-light,
a brief promenade, wheeled out
on fresh air computer chairs.

Salamanders scurried to her ankles
hot-boxed and dusty on prison yard feet.
Screw this heat, tweeted the blue bird,
carried by daisy-chains over the office wall.
The warders accused me of helping her escape
and confined me to a spread sheet.
Secretly I embedded a text,
just to pretend that I had.

A poem narrative.   A vignette of afternoon life among the berbers and amidst the burbs with traces of real temptation beckoning you to join the heroic, and, perhaps, imagined rebel away from and out of the bureau or the office