Sunshine + Humidity= Sticky: A Poem About the Heatwave
the thick air
hangs sticky
like a child’s hand,
yet, this is not a child,
but an invisible beast
ready to attack, sucking
all the moisture
from you and me.
the heat envelops
saturating the flesh
turning it red and sweaty
without even lifting a finger.
there’s no magical
tropical fragrant breeze
to break the dry humidity
of a southern sun baking,
burning crops and skin
with just a peek.
the old folks talk
of rain around their
early morning coffee,
way before the unrelenting sun
makes an appearance.
then the afternoon storms roll in
raining long enough
to make it all worse.
because now the sun shines
it’s harsh UV rays brighter
draining puddles left behind
eradicating cooling effects
No stray breeze lingers.
stepping outside feels
like a step onto another planet
without an oxygen source.
like a fish without water
sizzling in the frying pan
forced back inside
where the AC maintains
temperature keeping us
comfortable behind
sun-muted blinds
cold beverage in hand.
