By Meghan Riney
I hate you. That is all.
You have nothing to give. You bring mosquitoes, sweat and shorts, and I lose my will to live.
“I’m only for a few months,” you say, but we all know that’s not true. For you’re lurking in September at the park and at the zoo.
What happened to four seasons and a civilized way of life? Instead we end up running in air so thick you could cut it with a knife.
I apologize for my hateful words, for I mean you no ill will. I just wish you’d move on to the Yankees for awhile and give them all a thrill.
You’re tolerable in June, and I suffer through July. But by August, I’ve lost all dignity and my patience has been sucked dry.
So, please just take it easy. We have important things to do. The world’s on fire enough right now, and we certainly don’t need you.