HEAT WAVE!
Pain Spectrum – red and SWOLLEN. Ugh.
BM/RD Index – 22
Fuzz meter – 8
NYC is currently in its third day of 100+ temperatures. K, the cat and I are holding out well. It clocked in at over 117 degrees yesterday on the roof; today should probably be even higher. To look out the window these last few days has been like looking at old photographs. Languid does not even begin to describe the pace of the streets. The only movement is by the fire hydrant in the middle of the block. This has been opened and is surrounded by kids with buckets and water balloons, splashing water over everything and everyone. The parents are a safe distance away from the mayhem, sitting on folding chairs, buckets of soda on ice scattered about between their outstretched legs as they play dominos. The cops do an occasional drive-by, seemingly more to chat with the chair-sitters then for anything else. A few times a day, an ice-cream truck makes its rounds and is mobbed. At night, the kids get a bit older and more rowdy, and the cops might drive by a bit more often, but that’s about it. That it is not only hot, but humid as well, means that I cannot go out – I’m swollen enough as it is, and the few attempts I have made have left me looking like the stay-puff marshmallow man. But it is nice to sit and watch the children play. I have a poem tickling at the edges of my brain about summer in the city; whether its one that has been written or wants to be I can’t quite figure out. Any thoughts?
BM/RD Index – 22
Fuzz meter – 8
NYC is currently in its third day of 100+ temperatures. K, the cat and I are holding out well. It clocked in at over 117 degrees yesterday on the roof; today should probably be even higher. To look out the window these last few days has been like looking at old photographs. Languid does not even begin to describe the pace of the streets. The only movement is by the fire hydrant in the middle of the block. This has been opened and is surrounded by kids with buckets and water balloons, splashing water over everything and everyone. The parents are a safe distance away from the mayhem, sitting on folding chairs, buckets of soda on ice scattered about between their outstretched legs as they play dominos. The cops do an occasional drive-by, seemingly more to chat with the chair-sitters then for anything else. A few times a day, an ice-cream truck makes its rounds and is mobbed. At night, the kids get a bit older and more rowdy, and the cops might drive by a bit more often, but that’s about it. That it is not only hot, but humid as well, means that I cannot go out – I’m swollen enough as it is, and the few attempts I have made have left me looking like the stay-puff marshmallow man. But it is nice to sit and watch the children play. I have a poem tickling at the edges of my brain about summer in the city; whether its one that has been written or wants to be I can’t quite figure out. Any thoughts?
posted by KS at 8:18 AM
2 Comments:
It's too hot to think...
But want to hear more about your poem.
You have an idea for a poem and you wonder whether to write it down?!? The heat must be getting to you.
It's always the things I didn't write that I wind up regretting.
If it's no good (or if it is indeed too heavily influenced by somebody else's poem on the same subject), you can always throw it out. But if you don't write it down -- you'll never know. Ever.
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