by Bradford Middleton
Smoke rings rise from my mouth
As my body starts to wrinkle in the heat
My mind can’t think as the smoke takes hold
The longer I smoke the heat intensifies my blast
And I just wilt wishing there was a breeze
This sun is too hot for me to think
So all I can do is sit and ponder on the idea of survival
The sun comes out rarely for which I am thankful
As it does tend to bring with it some major irritants
The idiots on the beach make me crave for winter
The lovely cold air and the beach all to myself
Out there now all I can see are people
Frying their skin under the oven-ready sun
All I can do is sit back and wonder what became of my lovely fan
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