Please forgive the sloppiness of the meter. Whereas Samuel Taylor Coleridge's inspiration for his gibberish was opium-based, I can only afford the less fun muse of Sunstroke. Meh, at least I finish what I start...
Enjoy!
With its air that's drinkable
And mercury unsinkable
To go outside's unthinkable!
Oh, how I hate this place.
Today 'twas one oh three point three
With forty percent humidity
That's one fifteen to you and me.
Man, I hate this place.
Whether this sauna's atypical
An anomaly statistical
Or merely something cyclical
I still hate this place.
I know it's hotter elsewhere, see.
I don't expect your sympathy.
I'm just whining via poetry.
But I still hate this place.
Posts
1 comment:
I'm impressed. You could mow in that heat and still rhyme.
Post a Comment