Just the Usual

Spring has long taken off its Bermuda shorts. Hawaiian shirts are left on tree-lines to fade under a red-faced sun. If there are worms in the dry earth the Robins cannot reach them, and now scramble after bugs on baking walls. No one complains except the English and polar bears. Hardship in America is just called climate. In Gentlemen's Clubs strippers have turned-off the stage lights, sweat flop cannot hold a slippery dollar. Motel ice-machines have succumbed to heatstroke and only dispense a crunchy tepid drool. Global warmers pant for cold beers. Armageddon is near, but in pats of Alaska, summer is just called a milder shade of winter.