Urban poetry

High Street in Oxford on a sultry summer night.

I had taken the daytime flight to Heathrow, so it was after nine PM when I got to my hotel in Oxford. And it was hot. The temperatures had been in the 90's that day, and my hotel room had one small window and no air conditioning. (It did have two fans, but the sensation of having hot air blasted at me reminded me of South Dakota, and not in a good way.)

I went out for a walk to stretch my legs and after only a couple of blocks I desperately wanted some cold water. But all the shops were closed, and I didn't want to sit in a bar just to drink some fizzy water. This food truck had water, which was cold only in the sense that it was maybe a few degrees cooler than the air, but I was grateful to get it.