Whitehot

I feel the heat wash over me and break
Across my face: not broken now for good,
But smashing into me, making me take
The full impact of it. I wish I could
By some endeavour find a way to cool
The constant pressure of the heat on me,
But in this weather heat will always rule
And maybe it is best to let it be.
I have no promise this will ever change
Although I do not doubt winter will come
Too quickly, and enforce an odd exchange
Of overwhelming heat for weary, glum
And frigid ice. Chicago's a strange place
With heat and cold in this continual chase.