A free-verse poem about how blamed hot it was yesterday in Dallas.

Glance at my Seiko while turning
into Target’s parking lot. Four p.m.
and no empty spots near the front door.
Finally find one only a quarter mile out.
Pull in, park, and step out into blindingly
bright sunshine. After only a few steps,
a blanket of heat like a down comforter
settles over me – only I feel no comfort,
just oppressive heat. The air is more than
thirty degrees hotter than inside my car.

Halfway to the entrance, the sweat beads
atop my bald head and begins free-falling
down my face. I can feel my T-shirt getting
damp as well. I pass a black bird sitting on
the branch of a small tree, his wings raised
half-way and his beak open gasping for air.
He looks as hot as I am beginning to feel.
He shouldn’t dress in solid black on such
a hot day! I should walk faster to get inside.

Heat waves radiate from the hot cement.
The shirt on my back has gotten clingy.
It has been months since I have been this
miserable from the heat. The sun actually
feels larger and closer than a week ago.
Must be due to global warming! Why else
would it be 93 degrees in the shade on
April 22 in Dallas? Why else would
summer have arrived this damned early?

I pass a man walking the opposite direction
who asks the proverbial, “Hot enough for you?”
I roll my eyes and hurry inside to the air
conditioning, knowing the parking lot will be
even hotter on the walk back to the car.
Today’s experience makes me dread how
unbearably hot it will be when the real summer
arrives months from today if it is already this hot
in April – 93 sultry degrees in the shade!