Humid, Ain'T It? Poem by Liilia Talts Morrison

'Humid, ain't it? ' is the question
Every year, every summer.
'Is it hot enough for you? '

Every year, every summer
'Yeah, that it is.'
'Got any ice? '

Mayans walk the avenue
Slowly, in groups of two or three or four
Anglos stay indoors
Sun so hot the asphalt melts.

The sleepy lumber company
Waits for a customer.
Sports a concrete alligator in its yard
Down by the railroad tracks.

Royal Poinciana trees flash their orange
against a bright blue sky.
But who is there to stop and wonder?

Women do their shopping early
Way before ten o'clock.
Men make sure their six packs
Are cold and ready.

'Got any ice? '