The sweltering summer heat in the Southern U.S. is notorious for being muggy with temps as high as the humidity. Nothing else is like a southern thunderstorm in the middle of July. Thunderstorms are often very loud, and give life to legends like God moving around his furniture or having a party in heaven.
So break out your lawn chair, shorts, lemonade or sweet tea, and get comfortable. Play a little blues, and make sure to serve up some Carolina barbecue for this nostalgic type poem from our beloved Kenneth O'Shaunnessy.
Southern Summer Swelter
By Kenneth O’Shaunnessy
I ventured outside once
in a Southern Summer swelter.
I left my little house with the low ceilings,
with the close crackerbox walls
and the nicotine-curtained windows.
I slogged into the claustrophobic bodysuit
of dancing water molecules
and shimmering solar steamers.
I tried to breathe underwater once -
This was harder, because there was hope,
and a little oxygen and nitrogen.
I think Jimmy Hoffa was buried
in a Southern Summer sky
one hazy post-meridian.
Turns out mosquitoes are water-bugs,
drinking burgundy juleps
from heat-engorged tumblers
amidst finger-fanning slaves.
Finally I reached the freedom
of the family Ford Fiesta.
It was an H2O-less Hades heat,
but better to burn than boil.
Thank God for that one lasting
Full-service Hess station, for,
As God is my witness,
I will never go outside again.
Kenneth A O'Shaughnessy is a freelance writer and poet living in the upstate of South Carolina with his wife and four children. To find his daily poetry entries, log onto: http://badbadboypublications.bandcamp.com/