Summer Is the Devil's Friend

I open the door
The devil belches in my face
His hellish breath,
hot, sticky, fetid,
envelopes my body in a
sickening slurry
I detect the stench of his perfume
Notes of decay
and dog shit
drift together in the thick air
I want to leave
but there is nowhere to go
I search my conscience for sin
What mistake put me in
Satan’s lab?
There is no rest
Every second,
every breath
translated from stagnant soup
to air, barely usable
Every step
stuck to the scorching concrete
like gum stuck on soles
of blistering feet.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Artistic Interpretations w/ Margaret, Dog Days of Summer
and The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 117