Heat Poem by George Murdock

One summer day while jocular spare toothed old men
Played bocce in the park in their sleevless shirts
And drank beer from brown paper bags
While a scorching late afternoon breeze
Wafted odors of frying onions, ground beef and wax peppers which stung the flared nostrils
Of mothers pushing baby carriages, fanning themselves with newspapers
Which declared the heat wave of the century
While jagged edged loudspeakers played music of the Rancheros
from the door of a record store
While shrill voiced children ran through the wash of a fire hydrant
While wine pissed bums slept in alcoves and trolley cars clanged along the boulevard
One day as the summer sun sank steamily into the depths of the west coast
From the spectacle of light and heat arose a languishing solar flare
which licked along the walls and alleys, igniting the city
with a light the sun can never shine
And from nests come preened falcons and nightingales
warbling love songs in the hot endless night.