516: Itchy Panama

sweat

PANAMA

It’s winter here in Panana,

Where the sultry breezes blow

Scorching hot, oven air

That makes the sweat drip so.

 

The hills are all on fire

With flame and smoke and soot

The char floats down into the pool

And all over you, to boot.

 

The mosquitos and the chitras

Bit hard and fast and strong

And only the itching lets you know

They’ve come, and bit, and gone.

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