Home > Poetry > Heat Wave

Heat Wave

Heat always brings out the stink.

Not just the stink in your garbage can,

or the fruit that seemed to go from ripe to rotting before you even thought about using it,

but it brings out the stink in people,

and I don’t mean body odor,

but the deep soul stench of the darkest recesses of the id.

When it’s this hot,

there’s no time for pleasantries, and masks,

tempers are bound to flare,

there’s a reason crime goes up in August,

and there’s a reason why I want to shoot the arrogant asshole sitting next to me who won’t stop making every turn of conversation somehow about him.

I want to stab him with my fork,

and throw him on the steaming pile of stink,

so he can decompose,

and make my flowers look pretty,

then his existence will not have been totally in vain.

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Categories: Poetry
  1. July 10, 2010 at 9:24 am

    Ouch! Okay, the heat’s been making me this cranky too, in all fairness. You’ve actually got some nice (and by nice I mean unpleasantly vivid) images here. Take a cold shower. 🙂

  2. July 12, 2010 at 12:45 am

    I think it’s time to break out the Slip and Slide.

    Pearl

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