july 19th

a poem about summer in the city


regina's line about cleavage is my earworm
as the warmth raises levels of therm-
ometers and skirts - embracing melanoma
captured in a capsule of communal commute home a
topless tattooed builder, a sweat-suffering suit
a pair of ladies fan themselves and in a move knut
after his trouble with tides would have recognised at fut-
ile they wish fervently and loudly it was cooler
but youll never win by whining and theyll never be the ruler
of the climate or the time it takes until the next ice age
i reckon they'll be dead by then - though i dont know their precise age