ItinerantDjuradhan

Only mad frogs and garbagemen go in the noonday sun. Joined only by the rest of us who need to get things done. Those empty-eyeballed sorts in shorts who wander in a daze, Half-walking and half-swimming through the moisture laden haze. To wake up in the mornings when you're swimming in your sheets Is not so quite as wretched as the kind of day that greets The early riser with the news "You ain't seen nothing yet! Today we'll all discover just how rotten it can get!" When the drinking fountain water starts to come out nearly boiled, A seat close to a window leaves one half of you near-broiled, When fish outside the window are sharing the trees with birds, You know the weather for today will leave you whey and curds. The waterfall of perspiration trickling down your sides, That leaves a dark enormous stain no pattern can disguise Upon your shirt, is joined by grease oozing down from your hair And sweat in other places (though I don't dare mention where). To hear the grinning