Muggy

Though I’d hate to get mugged
By some low-life or druggie,
It cannot be much worse
Than when New York gets muggy.

The air is so thick
It’s like you’re suffocating;
And sweat pores, I swear,
Seem to be procreating.

You can’t drink enough
To alleviate thirst;
And then you just pray
That your bladder won’t burst.

Your clothing just clings
Like a car decal sticker,
And inside your shoes
Your wet feet feel much slicker.

You pop into stores
For a breath of A/C
And think – it’s just June –
So how can this be?

It seems clear to me
Global warming is real.
How else to explain
Just how droopy I feel?

We must keep in mind
That this weather won’t last,
But I sure hope that autumn
Will get here – real fast!