I walked out onto my back deck

Thermometer one hundred eight

I’m not a big fan of the heat

And this wave just won’t abate

Poor old blue jay panting air

Trying his best to stay cool

Put some water in the birdbath

For a little birdie kiddie pool

Hopped across the driveway

Scorched my two bare feet

Burned both cheeks of my big fat ass

When they stuck to my car seat

I grabbed a hold of the steering wheel

My fingers burst into flame

My sweat steamed up the windshield

It’s the weather girl that I blame

Good old Jackie Big Jugs

TV weather vamp

Promised us a cool down but

She’s one bulb short in her lamp

I can read a weather chart

I understand lows and highs

But her forecast’s not convincing

While she flashes us her thighs

Now don’t misunderstand me

Better her than some old goat

Because no matter who they put there

The chance of accuracy is remote

In the meantime I’m drinking fluids

Not the kind they recommend

I may not get my cool down

But it helps me to pretend.

Copyright 2010 Patrick Granfors