The great heat etched it’s way into Lexington, 
filling up concrete trucks with mohair
trapping us under thick transparent walls
and forcing us to always breathe the same tsp of air all the day
As a reward
The sky was filled with orange creamsicle skyscrapers
That boiled and froze and spewed over the top
of their imaginary glass rims 
Tipping over into puddles of cool respite