[midtempo percussion and vocalization]
- Elijah Furquan: Neighborhoods are ovens with windows
and as the knob on global warming increases,
lives are preheated until a soul soufflés.
Pancake-stacked projects are poured over
with a humid as thick as molasses.
Heat and humidity are the perfect appetizer
on death's plate.
It's an all-you-can-heat buffet from May to October,
and senior citizen discount is every day.
If thermometers can measure temperatures,
they should be able to measure human anxiety.
As the temperature rises, we reach boiling points.
Attitudes of those around us rise quicker than mercury,
and the pressure of staying cool causes us to explode.
Compressed living complexes circulate heat
and cause compressed feelings to converge
upon our neighbors in the hood.
So that 90% release of excess body heat
talked about in science class
is contributed to our local temperature rising.
We crack open fire hydrants until we hear lights crying,
raising taxes by lowering our body temperature.
And if you couldn't afford a wind replacer,
fridges and freezers were propped open
until your two brothers' faces are frozen.
Audiences applaud the ice cream man
once that familiar jingle mingles with our ears.
The sweet release of flooded heat is a godsend.
What do you know?
The ice cream vendor's name is Noah.
As the temperature rises, so do attitudes, death rates, bills,
and ice cream stocks.
Heat affects the elderly more than it does us.
Their lungs resemble the Dow Exchange--
rises and drops until they crash.
Ambulances are summoned, riding down the street
flooded with the contents of the only fire hydrant.
And we have only just begun to fry.
[midtempo percussion and vocalization]