The woman in the bright pink dress
with matching lipstick
and a helmet of blonde hair waves her hands
and the map behind her magically begins to display
the temperatures forecast for tomorrow

(Does that pink clash terribly
with the green screen behind her?)

The numbers, they are too high
too much for July
These are August numbers
dog days of summer numbers

(Although I do not know one dog
who enjoys one hundred degree days)

Another wave of her pink arm and
the rainfall predictions
They are too low
for July
These are August percentages
zero
one
ten
zero
Again – it’s been two months now
she reminds us
since measurable rain.

Her colleague in the dark blue suit
and brown hair helmet
(She reads the news, she is serious)
reminds us all that the county is again
under a burn ban
and that watering lawns is restricted
as if the dry dormant grass would be any match for a wild fire
even if it was a little greener.

I walk the dog outside
after the night has cooled the road
but the fragrance is still there
The small of drought
sickeningly sweet, yet acrid at the same time
burning my nose, my throat
LIke smoke without the fire.

So we sit
and we watch the daily report
How was it?
How dry was it?
As if we didn’t already know every time we went outside
Every time we crawled into cars
with an internal temperature of 140F.
the news just confirms
what we live
The news just confirms
that we need a properly timed
properly aimed
weak hurricane about now.