Summer in Tampa
By Kelley Stead

In June the city has a fever
It sweats road rage and misery
The people, sick to death of heat
Forget their manners and chivalry

In July the city loses its mind
And slips into insanity
The heat melts its weary brains
All talking is profanity

In August the city dies
And the sun cooks its bones
The people are living dead
They walk around like drones

In September it starts to rain
The city coughs and sputters
The people’s eyes begin to clear
As rain water fills their gutters

In October the city is cured
Breezy hands stroke its skin
The people smile at each other
And Tampa is Tampa again