rogue forecast

it's hot.
really hot.
bone-charring, dehydrating, old lady heart attack hot.
it's humid too,
but the air isn't stagnant-
there's a little bit of easy breeze, at least.
but,
even the breeze is hot.
...like breath.
and that's pretty 'sgusting, kids.
i'm just sayin',
the northeast is reppin' temperatures like the deep south,
and it is sweaty out.
yep.
the weather is sweaty.
or partly sweaty with a chance of greasy.
100% certainty on that sweatiness, though.
it's gross.
it's the dominant conversational topic up here;
old people,
fat people,
and military people, y'all.
the holy trinity of weather discussion.
try and guess who from each group said what:
*"it's hotter in iraq, 192 degrees in the shade, y'queers",
*"it wasn't ever this hot when we were kids,
and everything only cost a nickel",
*"my crotch is like a bamboo steamer right now,
good thing too, because i'm hungry."
-uh-huh.
complaining.
that's a new england tradition.
we love it.
so hard.
when it's hot, it's too hot.
when it's warm, it isn't hot enough.
when it's cold, it's waaaay too cold.
there is just no 'baby bear' up here.
y'know, not the actual cubs, of course, but the idea.
i mean,
there is no 'just right'.
that's new england weather.
that's new englanders.
that's what's up.
***********
duders,
the chipmunks are getting munched on.
all that feeding my wife did all springtime-long?
yeah, well, now they're fat and lazy.
...and also pretty flippin' tasty, it seems.
in addition to whatever night screamers are out stalking
those striped ones,
there's a goshawk on the prowl.
and it sure doesn't play around, my ninjas.
a 'munk a day, every day.
right down the hatch.
little warblers and whatnots chase him off from their spots,
but he doesn't leave without a snack.
that's barbarian banquet science right there.
chipsters get what they've got coming, i guess.
it'd bum me out if it were poison,
or traps,
or cats.
but it isn't.
it's the natural order, in perfect working order.
dive-bombing death from above.
F* the dead ones, neighbors,
the dead(ly) birds have got way more hottness in 'em.
***********
this day is done before it starts.
there's to be waiting,
driving,
rendezvous-ing,
and then some more driving.
it's destined to be full-dark before i'm done.
and if i'm not done 'til then,
then that means nothin' else gets done...
all done.
already.
and we're sweaty.
which is to say,
complaining and irritable,
furious, ferocious, and damp.
no good.
in the woodsly goodness,
amidst the flora and the fauna,
in an atmospheric armpit sauna;
never quiet, never soft.....