—GOD ONLY KNOWS, WHERE THIS COULD GO

 

Centigrade

 

You’d think I'd love this lake by now, that I’d know every swell and nook, gush over her bejeweled gown that casts the sunlight back in haughty protest, swoon over her bare midriff, her glimmering sea breasts. But no, I’m more afraid of her than ever. Across the way, someone’s mutt has plunged in. Two doors over, a toddler. Near the park, a young married couple who missed their honeymoon plane. Last night, while no one was looking, a scrawny family of deer toppled under. Now, all of them are thrashing in the waves, wondering how the water, above and below, turned so fucking warm in an almost-instant.