It's hot.
hot hot hot
Waves beat up
from the pavement
asphalt softens.
Building to a crescendo
deafening my ears
releasing a stench.
Humidity like a blanket
of some foul weave
covers me
and rankles my skin.
So I sit drowsing
sapped of energy
the sun beating thought
from my mind.
It's hot.
Really hot.
hot hot hot
Metal hot.
Stone hot.
Sticky and salty
with sweat
dank strands
cling to my neck.
My bag
is a burden
I dare not abandon
I would if i could
and the stupid bus
is late
again.
irritations mount
to an impossible
crescendo
it's just too
damn hot