As I was sweating this morning in the shower, I realized that I was having a similar frustration with New York as I did this winter, except opposite with the temperature scale.

Due to the fact that it is too hot to type full thoughts without sweating all over the keyboard, I’ve decided to write my feelings a la free verse poetry:

You and Your AC

I’m jealous beyond words.

No AC in Harlem.

Ceiling Fans.

Cross-Air Circulation

Come on Little Window Unit…

I think I can I think I can

WOAH.

Electricity bill.

Sticking to being sticky.

Damn you morning sun.

Sun drenched

Sweat drenched

The Summer of Air-Dryed Hair

Freezing in the Over-AC’d office

Hydrants Open

Fro-Yo Open

Hoochie Shirts Open (more than usual)

Baked Trash on the Sidewalk for Lunch

My favorite smell.

Come on train. Get here faster.

Sweat ‘stache

Stop the sweating.

Stop the madness.

Sweet homeless man, Sweet commuter, Sweet AC in the subway car.

Goodbye Sun.

Summer nights my sweet relief.

We don’t run and hide. We deal with it. We live in it.

It’s so damn hot in New York.

FIN.