98 degrees of separation

even the grass was sweating today

bricks were crying because the sun would just not let up

tarmac wept openly in front of curbs

buildings began to undress (red faced, like good puritans) early in the morning, some even before the sun had completely risen

cars were wheezing and struck with militant, hay-fever like symptoms 
they moved today like sickly turtles walking across a burning cactus

it was just hot enough to warm some bread on the front porch

haze would hug you like a dirty uncle

a whisper could knock you unconscious

summertime, and the dying is easy