Any day you get 46 degrees on the patio you’re
either pleased you didn’t fry - or you’ve decided
the thermometer has lied grievously; its the first
occasion we’d witnessed the event at first hand
and, admittedly, taken pictures. Although hardly
a grandiose match - suggests cameos of what’s
yet to truck when the ‘events of global warming’
cease to be rumours rancidly running amok
No, we did not hide in an air conditioned room,
or go off shopping to the local Mall - tho there’s
no doubt th’ call for Sunday groceries could’ve
easily been combined with Matinee Movies - &
tho hard to resist we persevered with getting to
grips with Future’s undoubtedly beholden lien
So the deal was litres of ice-cold soda water in
lieu of endemic avoidance pacts - and after all
chores were completed in the cooler morning’s
charity; then the act collapsed into those under
ceiling-fan immured-melancholia scenes to an
inescapably-blue, extreme-heat reality…
© 13 February 2017, I. D. Carswell
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