Our temperate country roasts and burns flesh with Apple devices cheerfully advising that the temperature is currently a three dicey digit affair
walk in the 100 degree overheating atmosphere, where sluggish slugs, once mobile New Yorkers, search and save shady places that proffer a handful of degrees relief from the brutalist sun, who was heard smirking after a wet Juno, "oh yeah, I'm back baby with the vengeance of a squalling and squabbling infant!"
and to harmonize on our lack of immunity from the terrors of weather, and yes, it's still June, the quiet nighttime skies awake us a thunderous slapping of sheeted rain, squalling and squabbling, rat-a-tat large caliber bullet/droplets drilling holes in our template temples expecting early morning serenity;
the Newspaper rags in search of pithy witty declaim: Rainstorms To Crack The Heat Dome In NYC
neglecting the cracking of tempest tossed tempers, furthy discombobulated composure of forced sheltering in place more, again, uhh, as if parched thirst or drowning are a choice