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There is no breeze.
Plants wilt and droop.
The underside of dying leaves
signal distress.

There is no breeze.
Flies collapse and sulk as
panting dogs lie in the shade.
The birds are silent.

There is no breeze.
Worms ooze as they fry
where barefoot kids dance
on sizzling sidewalks.

There is no breeze.
Rivulets drip from my brow
and armpits.
I smell like stagnant water.
I hallucinate
as my brain bakes.

There is no damn breeze.
I crave only a frosty beer
and the heads of the politicians
who allowed my planet to boil.

There Is No Breeze

One thought on “There Is No Breeze

  • August 2, 2016 at 10:33
    Permalink

    Great sentiment

    Reply

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