Rising Temps

The day starts off at sixty-two It's fairly nice, what else is new? It hits the sixty-third degree And now it seems it's grilling me At sixty-five I start to sweat And it's not even hot, as yet A small cool breeze, anomaly And back down now to sixty-three A moment's rest, I close my eyes I wake and find the temps still rise It's eighty now, and getting hot I'm hoping for the nineties (not) Then eighty-four, Orwellian I stumble, try to find a fan The 'meter shows the big nine-o And it's into the pool I go Although I'm cool, can I survive When temps climb up to ninety-five? Check the forecast, it's too late Already has hit ninety-eight The cauldron sizzles, ninety-nine One more degree, I draw the line The century mark is hard to bear Now even hard to breathe the air The triple digits are the worst Especially at the hundred-first And then with no warning to me It jumps ahead to one-oh-three The sidewalk burns, the asphalt's fire To walk about, shoes are required The furnace rages, hundred-six I feel I'm on the River Styx To Hell I'm bound, for it's not Heaven When temps now reach one-hundred seven Record setting heat is mine As we approach one-hundred nine The maximum is finally here A hundred-ten, hottest this year At least the next few hours will tell If tomorrow's temps will also swell