Summer in the City

Thunder rolling off in the distance. The night is as thick as schoolroom paste. I hear the baby crying next door. Windows open wide in the hopes of a cooling breeze. But not tonight. Tonight it seems as if Satan, himself, has reached up with his fiery fingers and grabbed hold of the city. Cooking it and all it's occupants. There are those fortunate enough to have airconditioners. But here, in the low rent district, not many of us can afford one. The thunder rumbles louder. Out side, a group of teens talking loudly over the incessant booming of their music. Sleep won't come easily tonight. It never does on nights like this. The baby has stopped crying. Perhaps her mother has given her a cool bath. I've already had two cold showers, but in this sweltering heat the effects don't last long. Lightning streaks across the sky and the thunder cracks ever closer. The air feels heavier by the minute. My bedside fan whirring and pushing the steamy mass of it around. Maybe I will walk down to the park and lie in the cool grass. But the walk will make me sweat more. Then there's the mosquitos. So I lie here amidst the perspiration soaked sheets waiting, hoping. Hoping like everyone else in this inferno of a city, for a cool breeze, a spell of cleansing rain. For relief.

2005

It gets worse every year.

https://www.aol.com/article/news/2019/06/27/extreme-heat-map-of-france-depicts-eerie-screaming-skull/23758254/